


This is Not a Romantic Comedy

by WyrdSister



Category: Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live RPF, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Gen, In-Universe RPF, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrdSister/pseuds/WyrdSister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is probably trying to tell Colin something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me as I was writing this that I am the least funny person I know, and that just really puts a cramp in my ability to write SNL RPF. But? Whatever, I guess. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, and did some research and shit, even, because that's my curse. I must be as factually accurate as possible even in the fake-real SNL setting of this fic. I mostly just watched a lot of interviews with Che and Colin, together and separately, to try and absorb their characterizations (but again. I'm not a naturally funny person, so I could only do my best). I did manage to find [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=df0PMPe21fc) gem, a TODAY show BTS type interview with the boys that offers some nice details about how Che got hired to SNL, and also exemplifies their chemistry.
> 
>    
> Disclaimers: I have no affiliation with SNL or its cast members. I love those people, and pray that none of them ever see this, ever, dear Lord, please no. Everyone else, however: please read this and enjoy! 
> 
> Note: I have no beta, so all mistakes in this are due to my own inability to proof read.

Colin personally sees to the eviction of Daisy Rose from the studio after her guest segment and discovers that he can barely maintain a polite air as he urges her into a taxi to the airport.

“Will you give this to Michael?” she says, shoving a slip of pink note paper into his hands, “Tell him it’s from Daisy –he’ll know what I mean,”

Colin glances at the paper, upon which a phone number is scrawled. “Yeah,” he says, resisting the sudden urge to throw it in the street and tell her to _fuck off_. “Alright, Daisy. You better catch your flight.” He ushers her back into the taxi and quickly slams the door close. “JFK International,” he tells the cab driver through the open window.

“It leaves at midnight!” Daisy shouts as the taxi pulls away, “I _won’t_ be waiting if he runs after me –tell him that!”

Colin just forces his smile a little more and waves, kind of hoping oncoming traffic will decapitate Daisy who has yet to stick her head back into the car. _No, Colin_ , he admonishes himself immediately. _Bad_. _She’s a nice girl, just delusional. That’s no reason to resent her_. But, he admits as he turns to head back into the building, he _does_ resent Daisy Rose and her delusions, even if he’s not exactly sure why.

 _Oh, forget it_ , he thinks. He supposes there’s no point on dwelling too long on such a little thing. He's allowed to find people irrationally irritating, isn't he? Daisy was just that –irrationally irritating.

When he steps out of the elevator at the office floor, a number of the crew from _SNL_ appear to be on their way out for the night.

“Hey, Colin,” Aidy says, “We’re going down to _SPICY_ for our own after party.”

“Spicy?” Colin frowns.

“No, _SPICY_ ,” Bobby chimes in, “My drunk uncle’s friend recommended it to him and he said it’s an example of why people burn flags, so we think it should be pretty fun.”

The rest of the group, already piling into the elevator, make various noises of agreement.

“Alright, uh, I’ll… catch up with you guys later, maybe,” Colin says, “I’ve still got some things to do.”

“Bring Che!” Jay shouts out as the doors close.

Che doesn’t appear to be in his office when Colin stops by, but it turns out that’s only because he’s sequestered himself in Colin’s office instead, lounging across the blue sofa Che, Pete, and Leslie have decided is the best place for a nap in the office. Colin gave up trying to kick them out a long time ago and currently Che is sitting with his flashy white and red sneakers (Colin knows they’ve got some kind of name, and that Che would probably lose his mind if Colin admitted he doesn’t know what it is) propped up on one end of the couch.

“Daisy Rose wanted me to give you her number,” Colin says, strolling over to his desk. He drops the pink slip of paper over Che’s head as he passes by, and the man finally looks up from his iPhone, bemused.

“The rom-com expert?” he says, snorting. “Yeah, right. We’re never bringing her back here again. Man, we really need to pick actual experts to bring on, but…”

“No budget,” Colin finishes with him. He looks around his office, to where his laptop is open on his desk, screen black but waiting to be turned on, waiting for him to check emails, make sure everything’s set for the weekend –et cetera. “Don’t you have stuff to do?” he asks Che, who’s back to texting or playing Solitaire or whatever it is that Che does on his phone.

“We’re off ‘till Monday, Jost,” Che says, rolling his eyes. “I was waiting around for you, anyway,” he says, swinging his feet around down to the floor and standing up.

“Oh. Are you going to _SPICY_ later?”

“What?” Che makes a face, “Don’t say that again. No, I need to talk to my landlord about this month’s rent and he’s passively racist so I need a white friend to go with me and smooth things over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, usually I make Beck come with me, y’know, ‘cause he lives close by anyway, and he has that just-right Good Samaritan look without making you feel insecure about yourself, but he’s taking Kyle to some –well, _thing_ , I guess.” He pauses, frowns, and then shrugs; “I dunno. So, let’s go.”

“Uh,” Colin looks back at his laptop one more time. “Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

Che stops in by at his office to grab his things and then they head out. The office is fairly vacant, since it’s a little past midnight, and as they step into the elevators, Colin notices that Che has a familiar pink slip of paper in his hand and is scrutinizing it.

“What, are you actually going to call her?” he says, incredulous.

“No,” Che says at once, then scowls. “It doesn’t matter. She’s going outta town,”

“She was _weird_ , Che,” Colin reminds him, though he’s not sure where the sudden heat in his tone is coming from.

“Yeah, man,” Che says, “I’m not saying she wasn’t, but –you gotta admit. It was _kinda_ cute.”

Colin opens his mouth to respond, to say _no_ , it was not cute, not one bit, but then he’s knocked to the side as the elevator drops unsteadily before stopping altogether with a thunderous _SCHOOM_.

The lights flicker off and are replaced with a red emergency light and for a moment, neither Che nor Colin move, their breaths harsh in the silence.

“Colin, you can let go of my arm now, man,” Che says eventually.

Colin looks over, and finds that he’s got one hand fisting Che’s coat sleeve like wrinkling the fabric will somehow save his life. “Oh. Sorry.”

They both straighten up, looking around the red-lit room.

“Well, to state the obvious: it looks like we broke down,” Colin says. He goes over the panel of button in the elevator and pokes at the _EMERGENCY_ button. Nothing really seems to happen.

“Yeah, _great_.” Che grumbles, and when Colin turns around again, Che’s sitting on the floor.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m not standing while we wait,” Che says, “Who knows how long it’s gonna be?” And then he takes out his phone.

“Who’re you calling?”

“No one. No reception in the elevators,” Che grumbles, already tucking the phone back into his pocket. He sighs heavily and glances up to where Colin’s still sort of hovering in the middle of the elevator floor. He raises an eyebrows. “Gonna stand there like a dork or sit down, Jost?”

For lack of any better response, Colin stomps over, sliding down along the wall into the spot next to Che. “How long do you think we’re going to be in here?”

Che snorts. “What, d’you think I’ve been stuck in an elevator before? Someone’s gonna notice the elevators aren’t moving, and then we’ll get out.”

Colin groans, knocking his head back on the wall panel behind them. “That could be _hours_ , Che.”

“Kyle said he an’ Beck got stuck in an elevator for seven hours once,” Che muses,

“ _Seven_?”

“I’m _joking_ , man. Jeez, are you claustrophobic or something?” Che says, “You seriously need to _calm down_.”

Colin scrubs a hand over his face, groaning again. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I know. God!” Would it be helpful to say he's being weirdly on edge because of Daisy Rose’s visit? Or will Che find that even stranger?

They're silent a moment and from his side, Che says, “‘Least we probably won't have to go to _SPICY_.”

A small laugh bubbles up from within Colin, unwarranted, and drops his hand away from his face to look Che in the eye and say, “Do _me_ a favor and never say that again,”

Che grins, the mischievous look entering his eyes apparent even in the dim lighting –or maybe because Colin just knows that look so well. “ _SPICY,”_ Che says “ _SPIIICY_ ,”

“Now, I'm sure that's a different club entirely.” Colin quips.

“ _SPICY,”_ Che repeats, throwing his hands up as if to say _What can I do?_

Colin just shakes his head, looking forward again. His gaze catches on Daisy Rose’s phone number, where the pink slip had fallen from Che’s grasp when the elevator lurched to a halt. He thinks that Che probably spots the paper around the same time, but neither of them comment on it, or move to pick it up.

“So me an’ Jay an’ Cecily started a pool –I've got a hundred bucks in that Beck an’ Kyle start fucking by Christmas.” Che says.

Colin chokes a little, but then recovers. _Kyle and Beck?_ “They'll never get together by Christmas, Che,” he protests, “They've known each other for –who knows? At least fifteen years. They'll need _another_ fifteen before anything happens.”

“Nah, man, this is the year,” Che says. “The tension is reaching critical levels,”

Colin rubs at his eyes. “Well then I hope you win the pool, but count me out. It's too tough to say,” he determines.

“ _Aw_ ,” Che knocks his shoulder against Colin's; “And here I was lookin’ forward to taking your money, Jost,”

Colin shoves Che back and there's a minor and perhaps juvenile back and forth of elbowing and shoving that ends with Che attempting to actually murder Colin via smothering.

“You're _crushing_ me,” Colin wheezes, and it really doesn't help that he can't stop laughing.

“Nerd,” Che says, but he lets Colin up and they slump back against the wall again,  each panting a little.

In the dim lighting of the elevator room, Colin suddenly feels weary. He stifles a yawn. “So, what about… What about your landlord?”

“I'll take care of it later, I guess,” Che says.

“Hm.” Colin's eyelids droop, vision blurring. “You know, Daisy Rose really was sort of awful,” he finds himself mumbling.

Che laughs, body shaking against Colin's side.

“M’serious, Michael. Don't call her. She's crazy or something…”

“Got it,” Che says, still sounding amused.

“Good.” And that's about the last thing Colin remembers before a mechanical voice says “ _Lobby_ ,” and he startles awake.

Steve Higgins peers down at Colin with a single eyebrow raised in both question and judgment because apparently the elevator has magically started working again, and they’ve arrived at the ground floor.

Colin straightens up, checks that he hasn’t drooled on Che’s shoulder or anything, and then nudges him in the ribs. “Che, the elevator’s open,”

“Thank God,”

They scramble to their feet and out the elevator as if the room might change its mind and close them in again.

Colin turns to Higgins, about to explain, to say _something_  but Higgins just shakes his head, chuckling. “I'd rather not know, boys,” he says.

After the doors close, Colin turns to Che with a sheepish smile and they head out toward the front doors. The clock in the lobby reads six-fifty in the morning and it’s a Sunday, so the lobby is pretty much deserted at a time when it’s usually filled with early arrivers to work during the week.

Outside, Colin and Che stop, nodding groggily at each other.

“See ya tomorrow, Colin,” Che says,

“Yeah. Good luck with the landlord.” Colin doesn’t make a move in any direction, just sort of sways in front of Che, feeling both wide awake from the chilly morning air of the late October day, and kind of dazed from sleeping sat (mostly) upright in an elevator. “Well, okay,” Colin says.

“‘Kay,” Che laughs and reaches out to clap a hand on Colin’s shoulder.“Later, man.” He turns away, and Colin guesses he’s still a little sleep-addled, because he just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, and wonders if he should have asked Che if he wanted to go get a cup of coffee.

 _Wait._ _Too early?_

 

#

 

The first time it happened, Colin had just finished his first year behind the _Update_ desk with Cecily, and Che was still a staff writer for the sketches.

They'd met at an open mic night at a local pub, and before Che moved to a new flat out of Colin's route, they'd made an unspoken ritual of meeting on the subway and picking up cheap coffee at a café five minutes walk from 30 Rockefeller.

There came a day that Che was running late, and Colin emerged from the subway with a simple text message to ‘ _get my usual’._

“Hi, can I get a medium caffe mocha and… a medium cappuccino?” Colin told the usual barista, whose nametag read _Maggie_ , and it probably  should have told him something that she paused in the midst of ringing up his order to look over his shoulder, as if expecting to see someone else. _Che_ , Colin realized –of course Maggie would recognize regulars like himself and Che by now.

She entered Che’s cappuccino with Colin’s caffe mocha and he felt obliged to explain, “He’s running a little late today,”

“‘Course,” she said, grinning. “Bound to happen, though honestly, we all thought you guys lived together. Five-ninety.”

Colin gave a small laugh, handing over the cash. “ _We_?”

She shrugged. “Let us speculate, okay? It’s all we have. You guys are cute together,” she added, offering him another kind smile before nodding to the end of the counter, “Order’ll be out in a about a minute.”

“Thanks,” Colin said, and he’d already moved on before her words really sunk in, and then he turned to stare at Maggie, already taking a new order, with wide eyes. He made a note to mention it to Che later and shook his head in disbelief.

Of course, he forgot all about it later when Che showed up at the office shortly after him, looking harried and cursing loudly about an ailing alarm clock and arctic shower waters as he accepted his cappuccino.

 

The thing is, Colin doesn’t especially mind being mistaken for being anyone’s boyfriend. It’s not exactly an insult, and after eight years with _SNL_ , Colin knows that pretty much anyone who even gets lunch together a couple times too often will probably be the subject of office gossip and teasing for at least a week. He’s been casually mistaken as the boyfriend of most of his current cast co-workers more times than he can remember, and while catching slack from a couple of baristas at his coffee shop is one thing, it _was_ more awkward when, shortly after Che was officially hired as a staff writer, Seth pulled Colin aside to ramble vague assurances about intact integrity and dating in the workplace. It wasn’t until Seth started going on about Che of all people, that Colin realized what Seth was even saying.

“Jesus, Meyers, I’m not dating _Michael_ ,” Colin said, once he’d stopped laughing long enough to catch his breath.

Seth gaped, blinking rapidly, “Oh. _Oh_ –oh, Colin, I am –I am so. Sorry.”

 

So if Colin has to be specific, he thinks over the years, he’s been taken for dating Che maybe six times, mostly by random strangers with good intentions. Four of those times, though, have been in the last two months, since the start of Che’s time as co-anchor on _Weekend Update_.

Colin wonders if it’s because people recognize their faces vaguely enough to recognize them together, but not know why. In any case, every mistaken encounter has taken place out of Che’s sight and hearing.

Until now;

 

It’s a Tuesday, which means a writing day, and Colin and Che are scheduled back from lunch for a meeting with some of the staff writers in half an hour. Colin’s probably going to return with bruised shins, because Che is a cruel, cruel man-child who enjoys kicking him under the table and generally assaulting Colin with his feet. As it is, Colin has gained the upper ground, literally triumphing by tucking his legs up in front of him.

“Don't look now,” Che says around the straw of his drink, “But there are   _definitely,_ like, two old ladies just staring at you. Dude, I _said_ don’t look.”

Colin had ventured to put his feet down again in order to turn and look. He waves at the women, smiling widely because it amuses him to put people on the spot, and because Che is snickering over his shoulder despite his protests, no doubt waving as well.

One of the women in question reaches across the table to smack her companion on the arm and hiss something, but with a look of determination, her companion climbs to her feet and begins to make her way over.

“Uh oh,” Che mutters, but Colin just watches the second woman approach, his curiosity piqued.

“Excuse me,” she says, “My name is Margot –I don’t mean to interrupt your meal, it’s just that –just that, why, you’re a spitting image of my brother when he was young.” She smiles at Colin, who returns the expression. “He was like you, “ she continues, and glances from Colin to Che behind him. “I’m sorry,” she adds, beginning to look a little teary-eyed, “He passed twenty years ago, I guest –you look so much like him, and I’m –I’m glad you can be happy.”

By now, Margot’s companion has swooped in, leaning heavily on a wooden cane. She puts a gentle hand on Margot’s arm. “Come back to the table, Margot, it’s alright.”

Margot nods and looks back at Colin. “I’m sorry for imposing on you…”

“No, no. It’s alright,” Colin says, “It was nice to meet you, Margot.”

She’s led away carefully by her friend, who glances back and gives Colin a quick nod.

Colin turns back to Che slowly, and finds that he’s got a tiny frown on his face and that he’s staring pensively at the leftover ice cubes in his glass.

“Well, that was intense,” Colin declares.

Che blinks, expression neutralizing before he smirks. “What, don’t you get mistaken for grandsons every other week? Brother’s a step up, isn’t it?”

“It’s true,” Colin says seriously, “Grandmothers love me.”

Che steps on Colin’s foot and cackles at the hissing noise it produces.

It’s not until they’re headed back up to the office that Che says suddenly, “That old lady Margot thought you were gay, didn’t she?”

Colin shrugs, presses the elevator button for the seventeenth floor, and says, “I just have that look,” he says.

Someone in the back of the elevator snorts loudly, and Che coughs to cover a snort.

“Yeah, yeah,” Colin says loudly, swiveling around the elevator to look around at everyone the best he can, “Laugh it up, I know, I’m aware –I’ve been told.”

Che claps a hand over his mouth, but not before a loud bark of laughter escapes from him.

 

#

 

In mid-November, Vanessa takes it upon herself to intervene in Colin’s very sad, very pathetic love life, and pesters him until he agrees to be set up on a blind date.

“It’ll be fantastic, Colin,” Vanessa says, clapping her hands together, “I’ll text you an address for tonight, alright?”

“Whoa, _tonight_?”

She blinks, large eyes totally innocent and dimples on full display when she smiles and wonders, “Is that a problem?”

Colin deflates a little. “No,”

She puts a hand on his shoulder, “You’ll have fun, don’t worry.”

He just nods and trails back over to the _Update_ offices.

Jay emerges from Che and Pete’s shared office and gives Colin and cheerful look that somehow comes off as looking suspect, like he’s up to no good. “Have a nice night, Jost,” Jay calls over his shoulder. “I’m out for the night!”

“Jay’s not planning any pranks, is he?” Colin asks Che when he steps into the office instead. “He looks like he has something going on.”

Che and Pete’s office is smaller than Colin’s though it looks cozier for it; the decor includes a mix of sports paraphernalia and photographs of various entertainers, as well as mementos from past shows. Everything is on display haphazardly, propped up or tacked to the walls in an unplanned manner. The overhead lights are always turned off in the room, which is instead lit by a string of Christmas lights running behind Pete’s desk and also various and tacky lamps.

Michael looks up from where he’s tapping out something on his laptop. “You know Pharoah always looks like he has something going on,” he says. “But if he’s pranking anybody right now, I’m not in on it.”

“Huh, well,” Colin sticks his hands in his sweater pockets, “I’m…” He blinks. “I was just stopping by. Checking the alive/dead status of my colleagues –you know.” He makes for the door again.

“Jost, you stayin’ late?” Che calls.

“Uh, no,” he says, pausing in the doorway and giving a tiny, self-conscious laugh. “Not today. Vanessa –well. Yeah.” It occurs to him that Che’s probably the type to find blind dates extremely odd, and possibly something only white people do. Maybe it is. Colin _does_ find the concept slightly ludicrous, too, and also kind of sad. He’s over thirty and he wonders: _is it too early or too late to be agreeing to a blind date?_ But he trusts Vanessa’s judgement enough, so hopefully it won’t be a total bust. And besides –why not? It’ll be funny later if it doesn’t work out.

He’s not home for an hour that evening when Vanessa texts him an address that turns out to be a pub a little uptown, and a meet-up time for eight-thirty, along with an instruction to be his _‘best casual sexy ;)’_.

He takes the bus up half the way and then takes the underground, rising from the subway at eight-thirty exactly.

The pub is better than the cheap dives Colin usually goes to with his friends, and one scan of the place makes Colin realize he has no  idea what he’s looking for. Shit.

He slinks over to the bar anyway, sliding onto a stool and  checking around for someone _else_ who seems like they’re looking around.

“Yo, Colin?” A voice says, and Che’s approaching the bar, a surprised but pleased expression on his face.

Colin blinks. “ _Che_?”

“This place is a little outta your way, isn’t it?” Che says.

“Yeah, I guess,” Colin shrugs, “But I’m waiting for someone. D’you come here often?”

Che smirks and bats his eyelashes dramatically, “Why, are you coming _on_ to me, you Wonder Bread slice, you?”

Colin snorts. “Wonder bread?”

“You vanilla cupcake, you?” Che tries, “You fresh glass of milk, you? You clean linens scented candle, you?” He laughs, unable to help himself, and drops into the seat beside Colin. “I’m meeting Jay here. Guy’s runnin’ late, though…” He looks over his shoulder, as if to check that Jay hasn't walked in while his back was turned. When he turns back to Colin, his eyes narrow a little and he leans back, looking Colin up and down. “You're waiting for a _date_ ,” he realizes, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

“No. What? So?” Colin says at once, his voice soaring two octaves. He coughs and clears his throat.

“Definitely a _first_ date,” Che says, slinging an arm around Colin’s shoulders, “ _Damn_ , Jost _–nice_. Who is it? Do I know ‘em?”

Cornered, Colin admits, “Look, Vanessa set me up with a friend. We’ve never met, okay? We were supposed to me here” _–_ he checks his wristwatch _–_ “Almost ten minutes ago, but Vanessa forgot to”

“ _–Oh_ ,” Che says, “Aha, I see.” And then he gets up, kneeling on his stool and hollers; “Ay! Anyone here for a blind date with a well-groomed, thirty year-old white dude?”

There’s a smattering a snickers and catcalls from some of the patrons, but no one responds seriously. Che sits back down. “Sorry, man. Looks like no one’s here yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Colin nudges Che in the side. “Looks like Jay’s stood you up, too.”

Che rolls his eyes. “Jay ain’t late for another ten minutes, man. _Then_ he’s ditched my ass. C’mon, I’ll wait with you.”

“Will you buy me a drink?” Colin asks, smiling hopefully.

“Hell no, Jost,” Che says. “Maybe later, if we’re still sittin’ here, I’m drunk enough, an’ I feel _sorry_ enough for you.”

“Well, fingers crossed, then,” Colin says, and leans across the bar to wave over the bartender.

 

The fact is, Colin thinks absently, he’s definitely been stood up. Che’s right. Che’s so smart, he thinks. Real funny, right from the moment Colin heard him doing stand-up. He was _–_ he was bright. Like a bright light…

“ _Bright_ ? I’m _black_ , you _–_ whipped cream… you… I’m drunk.” Che sighs,

“You can read my mind,” Colin squints at Che, and what is supposed to be a question makes it out as a statement instead.

“You’re literally narrating every thought that goes through your head, man,”

Colin frowns. That could definitely backfire.

“We should prob’ly go home,” Che says. “Think they’re gonna _–_ gonna kick us out soon, anyway.”

Colin looks around, still squinting, because he thinks it makes things look a little clearer. Shit, is he wearing his contacts or not? Eh. Pub’s kind of deserted. No date. No Jay, either. “Your place or mine?” he quips, chortling, but Che pulls him to his feet and says, “ _Mine_. Mine, mine, mine. S’Closer, man. You prob’ly shouldn’t go all the way to your place. You’re pissed.”

“S’your fault,” Colin grumbles, allowing Che to tug him for the door, “You… you _dared_ me to take those _–hic –_ shit _–_ those shots. _Hic!_ Fuck!”

“Didn’t think you’d actually _do_ it, man,”

They stumble outside into the night, where the cool air is like a sobering splash of ice water on Colin’s face. He shudders, and leans against Che heavily. “Gravity _–hic_ _–_ is not my friend,” he confides, squeezing his eyes shut. He thinks the sidewalk wants him to kiss it or something. Dance, maybe? It keeps _spinning_.

Che is shaking _–_ laughing _–_ and after a while, Colin just lets himself get pulled along the way. He thinks maybe he has lost his contacts during the night, somehow, and it’s kind of dark anyway.

Colin kind of just _zones out_ for a while and lets his feet do the walking because that’s what feet do _–_ walk _–_ and after, well, some vague amount of time, and a couple of flights of stairs, Che stops and Colin giggles at him for five minutes straight while the guy attempts to first find his apartment keys, and then fit them into the door.

Che’s apartment is lit by an extremely yellow light and doesn’t look at all like his old apartment a couple of blocks down from Colin’s. It’s bigger here, and the walls aren’t cracked. The furniture matches and looks used, but not worn out.

Colin trips over to the sofa in Che’s living room and flops onto it, content to stare up at the off-white ceiling until Che comes in and shoves Colin over. “Drink some water, man,” Che says, settling onto the cushion next to him.

Colin chugs the glass dutifully and then blinks, looking around groggily. “Nice place. It’s empty?” he says, even though he already knew that _–_ he knew Che didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment.

“What?”

“What?”

“How do you know…? Nevermind..”

Colin shrugs and slumps back, letting the back of his head rest on the couch top. “Michael, I’ll tell you this right now: I’m definitely sleeping on this couch, and if you kick me out, you’re really mean and I’ll say so.”

“ _Wow_ , that’s a real threat right there,” Che says.

“Be very scared,” Colin says, and now his eyelids are growing heavy again and oh right, _that’s_ why he took his contacts out. He falls asleep everywhere, goddammit! It’s almost like a daily occurrence or something.

“Stop laughing at your own lame jokes,” Che mumbles.

Colin wakes up enough to try and shove Che, but once his hand finds purchase against Che’s shoulder, he just kind of _pushes_ and _–_ oh, looks like he’s just going down along with it. Colin rests his cheek against Che’s _–_ whatever, he’s not really sure _–_ side? _–_ and incidentally, it’s a lot more comfortable than craning his neck to put his head back on the couch. Plus, Colin muses, he won’t wake up with a crook in his neck, now.

Che is a real friend, he thinks vaguely, and then sleep hits him light a freight train, and he’s out like a light.

 

 

An alarm clock is screaming somewhere, Colin's head feels like it's about to spontaneously combust, and his mouth feels kind of like he's swallowed a sock.

He makes a half groan, half whining sound and struggles out from under Che’s octopus-like hold, which in truth was probably the only thing keeping him from rolling right off the sofa in the night.

Che makes a noise, too, but it’s more whine than groan.

“ _Che_ ,” Colin hisses, “For God’s sake. We have _work_.” That seems to do the trick, as Che’s arms spring open and Colin tumbles onto the floor. He glares up at Che when the man peers over the edge of the couch.

“Aspirin’s behind the mirror in the bathroom,” Che offers. “Might have a spare toothbrush in the drawer.”

Colin perks up at the mention of aspirin and once he’s dragged himself down the hall, throwing back two pills and a glass of water, he monopolizes Che’s bathroom to freshen up the best he can. There’s a spare shirt in his office he can always change in to, though his hair will just have to be a mess throughout the day.

He emerges from the bathroom to the smell of coffee wafting down from the little kitchen, and while Che’s disappeared to get ready for the morning, Colin makes two mugs of coffee, dumping a good measure of sugar and creamer into Che’s because that’s how he always seems to make it at the office.

When Che returns, they drink coffee and eat Cheerios standing in the kitchen in the silence that usually accompanies a hangover. Colin sips at his coffee and contemplates whether getting drunkenly spooned by Che moves their friendship up a tier in whatever pyramid friendship gets measured with.

 

“You look like you had fun,” Vanessa says at work, when she finds him in the staff lounge near noon, his forehead pressed against the cool metal of the refrigerator door.

Colin turns around slowly, wishing he kept more aspirin in his desk, except that he’s never really been this hungover during the week, barring that time Fred, Bill, and Kristen –well, he tries to block it out of his memory, really.

“Actually, your friend didn’t show,” Colin tells Vanessa, “Che was there to meet Jay, but he didn’t show, so we just hung out, bonded by our feelings of abandonment.” He frowns. “I think he got me drunk on purpose.”

Vanessa stares at him with some kind of _look_ that’s half bewildered, half _are you serious?_. Finally, she says, “Oh. _Oh_ _–_ oh, that’s too bad –I’m sorry, I thought –well, I guess I thought it would go a little differently.” She presses her lips together in a way that reminds Colin of her expression in sketches where she’s playing a character faced with an unbelievable situation, though he doesn’t really know why.

“Well,” Vanessa says. “Hope you’re feeling better by rehearsals this afternoon.”

“Mm-hm.”

She whirls around and walks off, saying something under breath that sounds a lot like, “ _Th_ _is is so dumb_.”

Colin decides not to think too hard about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, look guys. I've been binge-watching SNL skits, Good Neighbor/Kyle videos, and SNL interviews for several days. I even watched the James Franco SNL documentary like a loser. Also, I nearly had an aneurysm the other day when I was reading the wiki of my hometown (for non-fic related reasons) and saw that Seth Meyers grew up in my area. I am years deep into this SNL thing and it's TOO laTE to get out so HERE we are. Also, I am running on very little sleep. Also, this chapter is brought to you by [ this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luEdthNqOFE) video, a BTS of the Gotham Magazine SNL spotlight from, like, last year. Everyone looks damn nice and I die inside in a good way looking at them.
> 
> I sound like a crazy person, but again: very little sleep.
> 
> Last notes: No beta, all mistakes are my own. I suck at proof reading.
> 
> Enjoy!

December brings inches of snow to New York and a sweeping case of the sniffles to the offices of _SNL_. The cast and writers spend most of the work week mouths numb with cough drops, their sweater pockets stuffed with tissue packets and hand sanitizer.

Table reads pass with laughs that turn into hacking coughs, and someone has placed bottles of Robitussin out along the tables along with shot glasses.

Because he has an immune system made of steel, Colin’s managed to avoid the cold going around the office, though at his side, Che has started to lose his voice, and has taken to looking a little pissed off whenever he sneezes.

They’ve just finished running through “Right Side of the Bed”, and Lindsay Shookus and the other producers present are giving Martin, Taran and Cecily his notes on the sketch delivery.

Che leans over the across the table slowly, hand outstretched, and wraps his long fingers one by one around a bottle of Robitussin before dragging it closer to him.

On Che’s other side, Beck looks on with some interest. It’s suspected by many that Kyle is patient zero in the cold outbreak, and so naturally, Beck has also fallen ill; as such, Colin has been unsure whether the frown Beck’s been wearing has been due to congestion, or if it’s because he’s still pretending he’s _not_ being weird about the “Troll Bridge” sketch from James’s week as host. In any case, it’s good to see that he’s not completely lost in his thoughts.

“Chug it,” Beck dares.

Che snorts, and examines the bottle label idly. He hasn’t spoken much throughout the day in an effort to preserve his voice for Saturday, and Colin finds himself wondering what remarks Che would’ve made if he _was_ talking.

It’s odd, Colin thinks; he’s never really noticed how much he and Che interact throughout the day. Of course they _talk_ –they’re co-anchors of _Update_ –but Colin also finds that he’s used to Che’s general presence when they’re not working on their segment. On writing days, Che pops in through Colin’s office multiple times throughout the evening and into the next day.

Currently, Che’s operating on facial expressions, gestures, and quiet hums. He puts the medicine bottle back on the table and slumps into his seat, retreating into his overlarge sweater like a turtle and narrowing his eyes comically.

And then Colin realizes Che is doing it on purpose, because he looks far too smug when Colin lets out a loud laugh and gets several looks from the other writers.

“Stop sabotaging me,” Colin hisses, kicking Che in the ankle.

Che gives him a shit-eating grin that seems to say, _I’ll sabotage you all I want_. He somehow manages to withdraw further into his sweater and Colin can’t keep a straight face at all when he says, “I mean it,”

“If the writers over there would stop flirting, we’ll continue now the next sketch on the agenda,” Lindsay says dryly, provoking a ripple of teasing jeers throughout the rest of the room.

Che straightens up, and shifting, just narrowly dodges Colin’s next kick.

 

The thing is, Colin knows he comes off as the average, vanilla, nice guy. It’s part of his whole _thing_ –his image. But he’s really not as oblivious as he thinks people expect him to be sometimes, and it’s interesting that even his colleagues seem to buy into that image a little. As it is, they don’t seem to realize that Colin has picked up on the exasperated looks they occasionally exchange with each other when he’s around.

 _Yes_ , Colin wants to tell them sometimes, _I_ have _noticed the carefully blank expression you get when we’re going over_ Update _logistics. I have_ eyes, _guys_. _What’re you trying to say?_

Lately, Colin thinks, the subtle Looks have grown in frequency, and while he’s not oblivious enough to _not_ suspect that his co-workers are all trying to tell him something, he’s not exactly sure what that something _is_ . He’s all but given up on trying to ask “ _What_ ?” because all that ever seems to lead to is a variation on “Oh. _Oh_ –oh, Colin...” and another inexplicable Look.

So, for the most part, Colin ignores this increasingly enigmatic tic in his friends’ faces.

A couple hours after table reads, when he’s returning from the meeting with producers to determine which sketches have made the initial cut for the week, he stops by Che and Pete’s office to check on Che under the guise of letting Pete know that “Sump’n Claus” made the cut for pre-taped sketch.

Pete barely breaks from his conversation with Sasheer to say, “Che’s not here right now,”

Meanwhile, Sasheer glances over at him with a Look, and Colin notes that her variation is slightly more sympathetic than some of the overly-incredulous expression he gets from others -namely, Bobby and Kenan -which is a small comfort.

“Oh.” Colin hovers in the doorway. “Well, the “Sump’n Claus” sketch passed.”

“Uh-huh,” Pete says, and then he also does the Look, utilizing his impressive eyebrow-raising ability and so  Colin says a quick "Okay, bye" and turns tail.

He walks around the floor a bit, stopping to converse with some of the writers to confirm logistics about certain sketches where the sets need to be figured out before building can begin. Eventually, Colin returns to his office and finds that Leslie has monopolized his sofa for her own comfort.

“Hey, Leslie,” Colin says, grinning. It’s always good to see her.

“Che went home early,” she says, not looking up from her work. She has her reading glasses on and appears to be making notes on one of the sketch scripts in preparation for the beginning of dress rehearsals tomorrow.

“Oh. Well, that’s good. Hopefully, he’ll–”

“Look, Colin,” Leslie says, rolling her eyes as she finally looks up, setting aside her script. Her tone is gentle, but distinctly serious; “I’mma help you cut through all this nonsense here for a second ‘cause it’s startin’ to get as bad as the Mooney-Bennet _mess_ –which, lemme tell you: I’da done somethin’ about them a while ago, except it’s different with them –gotta let that happen on its own. But you? You’re just bein’ a damn, sweet fool. So here it is,” she says, standing and reaching out to rest her hands on his shoulders, “And feel free to repeat after me: I, Colin Jost”

“–I, Colin Jost,” he interjects, meaning to add levity to the whole conversation. He has no idea where this is going at all.

“–am gonna stop drivin’ Leslie Jones insane, and do somethin’ about Michael Che, A-S-A-P.”

“Wait, what?” Colin says.

“You heard me,” Leslie says, staring him down. “Y’all _need_ a get your shit together. I’m gonna leave you to think about this, so you just use that big, wonderful Harvard brain of yours and put two an’ two together, okay?” She grins at him and pats his cheek before gathering her things to make a sweeping exit.

“Do something about _what_?” he calls after her.

“See ya tomorrow!” she says, instead of saying anything more helpful like literally anything else.

Colin frowns after her. This, he realizes, probably has something to do with the Looks he’s been noticing. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, texting Casey: ‘ _if someone told you in vague terms to “Do Something” about someone else, what would you interpret that to mean?’_

Minutes later, his brother responds in a series of, ‘ _kill them or fuck them’, ‘no worries, i wont judge either way’, ‘just let me know if u need help w/ the body_ ’.

Colin stares at the message log, feeling for a moment as though the world has stopped spinning.

‘ _This silence feels like an im-having-a-crisis silence_ ’. Casey texts after a moment, snapping Colin back into the moment. ‘ _R u having a crisis bro’_

‘ _Yep_. _I’ll let you know how it goes’_.

 

The thing is, if he has to deal with trying to figure out what Leslie’s referring to, Colin figures he should've be the only one who has to suffer the emotional trauma of deep inner reflection.

He waits until he sees Kyle emerge from his and Beck’s office and head down the hall before he moves, dashing across the floor and knocking briefly on the closed door before opening it. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Oh hey. Sure,” Beck says, looking up over the monitor of his desktop. “What’s up?” He looks so unaware that Colin almost feels bad about what's to come. Almost.

“Do you notice the Looks?” Colin asks.

“Huh?”

He steps into the office, closing the door behind him. “Sometimes, when you're talking with someone -Kyle, for example -do people ever just…” Colin tilts his head slightly to the side, presses his lips together and furrows his brow at Beck.

A flicker of recognition lights his eyes. “Wait. Yeah, kinda. Nick makes that face a lot -more eyebrows, though. What about it?” He motions for Colin to take a seat on the black loveseat that is far too large for the corner it’s been pushed into and also looks more like some kind of nest, what with the number of sweaters, blankets, and throw pillows that are piled onto the cushions.

Colin makes himself comfortable and looks at Beck with a steady gaze that surprises himself, since his pulse has started racing like crazy. “Leslie basically threatened me to 'do something' about Che because our nonsense is driving her insane, and I’m told that what that actually means is ‘go throw yourself at one of your closest friends, Colin’,” Colin explains, forcing the words out in a jumble before he can change his mind.

Beck stares at Colin, but it’s not with the Look like he was half expecting. It’s not even panic, or confusion. No, Beck slumps back in his seat, looking resigned. “Oh,” he says. “So you came to me.”

“Well, yeah, people kind of think that –wait. Why do I get the feeling that you already know what I’m talking about?” Colin says.

“What, about Kyle and me?” Beck guesses. He snorts. “I know I’m not subtle, okay?”

“Wait…”

“Although, if _that’s_ why Nick makes that face…”

“ _Beck_ ,” Colin says. “You…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you two-?”

“No.” And now Beck’s expression hardens a little. He forces the scowl away quickly, however, making a concerted effort to smile, rueful as it turns out. “It’s just pathetic, pining ‘ole me.” He shrugs. “Kyle doesn’t… notice.”

Colin’s words are failing him at the moment, his thoughts scattering at this revelation. It’d been office speculation since Kyle and Beck arrived to _SNL_ that there might be something between them, and while Colin has always sort of kept out of partaking in said speculation, he hadn’t argued against any of it. To hear Beck himself admitting to anything at all is mind-boggling. “So you _have_ been acting weird since the “Troll Bridge” sketch!” Colin ends up saying, because apparently that is what his brain finds to be a priority statement. “Sorry,” he adds when he sees the way Beck’s eyebrows shoot _way_ up.

“Go back to part where you’re apparently stuck on Che,” Beck says, recovering.

“Well, I don’t really know if that’s true,” Colin admits. “But I wanted to find out if _everyone_ thinks there’s, I dunno, something going on. Between us.”

“The Looks,” Beck says, realizing: “You asked to see if people see you and Che the same way they see me and Kyle.”

“Yeah,” Colin says, “And I guess I thought I’d try and clue you in on it –you know, prod you into action. Or something. Obviously, you’re not the one who needs to get a clue, though.”

Beck makes a face. “Don’t even try, dude. Kyle might forgive me if I did something as stupid as try to act on my feelings, but it wouldn’t be the same between us ever again.”

Seeing for the first time a glimpse of the anguish Beck’s unshakeable yet unspoken feelings must cause cause, Colin can’t help but try to reach out –to offer some kind of advice. “Look, are you _sure_ Kyle doesn’t-?”

“It’s _Kyle_ ,” Beck says, as if that’s all that needs to be said, “I don’t think he even realizes I’m bisexual.”

“To be fair,” Colin says, offering a weak smile, “You haven’t exactly been shouting that particular fact from any rooftops.”

“Oh yeah?” Beck raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “And what about you? I dunno about Che, but what’re _you_ gonna do? Now that you know basically everyone thinks you two are secretly or at least _should_ be together, what're you gonna do?”

Colin bites the corner of his lip, thinking, forcing his mind to _go there_ and consider what his own feelings were on the matter –on Che. Before he can respond, the office door opens.

“Beck, I’m heading –oh. Hey, Colin,” Kyle says, stopping short. He looks from Beck, sitting back at his desk, and Colin, perched on one side of the loveseat, and gets a sort of awkward smile on his face that Colin thinks is a character response but can’t _quite_ be certain isn’t just Kyle’s real way of saying _What’s going on here?_.

On second consideration, it’s probably a little bit of both.

“Colin came in just after you left,” Beck explains. “He wanted, um, dating advice.”

And because Beck is looking away when he says this, only Colin notices the odd scowl that passes over Kyle’s face at the mention of dating. _Jesus H. Christ_ , Colin thinks; is this what Leslie and everyone who gives Colin the Look sees? Is it literally  _that_  obvious?

 _But I can't be into Che just because people_ think _I should be,_ Colin reminds himself _._

“Dating advice? From you?” Kyle says, and now he's definitely in character; “ _Psh -_ yeah, yeah _right._ ”

“Oh yeah?” Beck responds, playing along with it, “I'll have you know, my advice is the _best_ advice.”

“Aha, yeah, may–maybe on –in your _head_ ,” Kyle says, strolling over to Beck’s desk and flicking the side of the head.

When Beck’s eyes narrow calculatingly, Colin gets to his feet. He knows from experience that Beck and Kyle can improv for ages, even after the only people still entertained by it are themselves.

“I'll get out of your way,” he declares.

“Wait,” Beck says, breaking and looking over, “What’re you gonna do?”

Colin shrugs. “Figure out if Leslie’s really onto something, I guess.”

And then, for the first time, Beck raises his eyebrows and Colin recognizes the Look. “O _kay_ ,” Beck says, however, “Guess we’ll know what you come up with, huh?”

“We’ll see. Catch you guys later,” Colin says. As he closes the door, he hears Kyle ask normally, “What’s that about, dude? Dating advice about Leslie?”

“Not _Leslie_ ,” Beck laughs.

“ _Ohh_...”

 

Colin heads out of 30 Rockefeller that day with his mind in a jumble, thoughts racing in all sorts of directions, yet unable to reach any definitive conclusions.

First, he supposes, he should try understanding what it is that people see. With Kyle and Beck it seems obvious; they gravitate toward one another without even noticing it when they stand or sit slightly closer than two normal friends would. And, although everyone loves Kyle, Colin knows that Beck is the only one who consistently has the patience for his antics, and is one of the few who understands the difference between Kyle and the kyle persona he often affects.

How, Colin wonders, are he and Che _anything_ like that? They hang out a lot, sure, but part of that is because they _worke_ together on _Update_ and as writers for _SNL_ , and also because they _are_ actually friends. Colin was the one who recommended Michael as a guest writer, and there's no question about whether Colin likes Che, but does he _like_ him?

“How old am I, twelve?” Colin mutters.

He tries to think about the whole issue objectively, but thinking about Che reminds Colin that the man is sick, and before he realizes it, he's gone on past his usual route into the underground in favor of heading down the way toward Che's apartment.

He swings by a deli a couple blocks from Che's place that he remembers Che raving about once, and there he picks up a large container of chicken noodle soup.

When Che opens his door, his expression flits from curiosity to pleasant surprise and Colin lets his doubts about coming over dissipate. He holds up the bag with the container of soup. “I brought food.”

Che grins and opens the door wider. “In that case,” he says hoarsely, “Come in.”

Colin trails after Che into the apartment, stepping out of his shoes and shrugging off his coat as he goes. He drops the soup off in the kitchen and then pops into the living room to join Che, who’s sitting sideways on the couch, a notebook in his lap where he’s working on stand-up material. “Have you taken anything?” Colin says.

“No, just _all_ the drugs,” Che mutters.

“Tylenol?”

“M’high as a kite,” Che says, nodding, and Colin wanders back into the kitchen to heat up the soup and search through Che’s cupboards for silverware. He’s just split the soup between two bowls when he turns around and finds Che standing in the doorway, staring at him with a somewhat befuddled expression.

“What’re you doing?”

“Um, soup?” Colin says, gesturing toward the counter.

“Nah, I mean…” Che trails off, though, clearing his throat softly before falling silent. He shrugs and moves over, picking up one of the bowls of steaming soup carefully. “Wanna watch something on Netflix? I can’t write today, man, my head’s killing me.”

And so they settle on the couch, and Che searches for a movie –or a documentary –or a show –Colin’s not really sure, because he’s not paying attention, really. He’s watching Che, distinctly aware of the space between them and trying to evaluate it, and trying to analyze their entire friendship so far.

“Jost, I swear to God I can can hear you thinkin’,” Che says as the documentary starts, “Which, normally, I would say –congratulations on _that_ accomplishment –but, seriously, man. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Colin says hastily, “I’m just, uh, thinking about Saturday,you know?”

“I’ll have my voice back soon, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Che says. “Or, I’ll sound terrible, and you can dub my part off camera while I mouth along.”

Colin pretends to nod along thoughtfully, “It’d be the perfect trick…”

“No one would suspect a thing,” Che says, grinning.

“Absolutely nothing,”

Che finishes his soup, setting the bowl on the coffee table, and when he sits back, he does so forcefully, throwing his body weight into slumping against Colin’s side.

Che does this a lot, Colin reflects, even as he automatically makes noises of protest. He doesn’t actually mind; Che’s antics amuse him more than irritate, and it doesn’t hurt that because Che tends to wear layers of sweaters when they aren’t filming _Update_ , when he tries to smother Colin it’s really just like being attacked by a particularly heavy pillow.

So Colin really doesn’t mind it. In fact, he likes it, and he wonders what would happen if he didn’t push Che away like he usually does, and so he doesn't.

“You should really invest in some throw pillows or something,” Colin tells Che, who has accepted Colin’s lack of fight without suspicion and is even smugly making himself comfortable, tucking his legs up on the couch next to him.

“I don’t invest in _throw pillows_ , Jost,” Che says, “That’s what friends who buy you soup are for.”

“You’re the pillow,” Colin grumbles, but he’s glad that Che’s eyes are on the T.V screen ahead, because that means he hasn’t noticed the nervousness Colin thinks must be written all over his face.

 _You’re over-analyzing this_ , he thinks to himself, but still, he wonders how this might look to someone else; do they seem like just friends right now? Or _boy_ friends? Shit, does _Che_ even think about what it looks like? He’s always struck Colin as an extremely straight individual –except, Colin realizes, that’s mostly due to the pre-written jokes Che’s made on _Weekend Update_ , which don’t exactly reflect real life. Off air, Che doesn’t discuss his personal life –ever, come to think of it.

Colin glances down, at where Che is more or less tucked up against his side, breathing somewhat heavily due to his cold, and oblivious to Colin’s whole inner turmoil, anyway.

And because Colin is the type of person who can’t let thoughts go, he thinks about Leslie’s threats and Casey’s text, and Beck’s words, and it hits him all at once that yeah, maybe he’s a little addicted to Che’s presence, and that he likes hearing his opinions more than anything, really, and _fuck_ –Leslie was right, after all. Leslie's always right.

 _Thank God Che’s sick_ , Colin muses, because suddenly all he wants to do is pull Che up and kiss him, just to know what it’s like.

He understands Beck’s decision to keep his feelings from Kyle, now; Colin has no idea how Che would respond, and even a rejection would ultimately change the dynamic of their friendship forever. It scares Colin a little, thinking about it –about the possibility of ruining the easy friendship he has with Che.

“Hey,” Che says into the silence. “Move your arm, man.”

“What?”

“S’gonna fall asleep, an’ I’m not plannin' on moving an inch.”

Bemused, Colin shifts a little, pulling his arm out from where it’s been pinned under Che, who moves slightly to adjust to the change. And that, Colin realizes dazedly, is how they end up cuddled together on Che’s couch that evening, Che leaning up against Colin’s side and Colin’s arm thrown over the couch top, one slip and it’d be wrapped over Che’s shoulders.

The documentary about a murderer Che’s put on runs on, and Che doesn’t really comment –still trying to preserve his voice –so Colin takes it upon himself to make a sort of running commentary on the entire thing, which is nice because it distracts him from going crazy in his own thoughts, and because Che, at least, seems amused by it. When the documentary ends and the credits roll, Colin realizes that at some point, Che’s dozed off beside him, his head against Colin’s chest.

 _This isn't weird, is it?_ Colin thinks wryly, his recent revelations putting everything into perspective. God, he hopes there isn't an office pool on them… though he sort of suspects if there is, Leslie’s betted date is coming up.

 

“Colin.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” he says, startling.

“Nah, Che’s fine,” Che deadpans. He doesn’t sit up.

“I thought you were asleep,” Colin says, and his voice is softer than he intends, more of a murmur, really. He wonders if his tone is too –too _telling_ , but Che doesn’t seem to have noticed anything in all these months. Granted, neither had Colin.

“I was,” Che whispers back, “Probably gonna turn in soon, too. Just wanna know if you’re crashing here or not.”

“I –sure. Yeah, okay,” Colin says. He pauses. “D’you still have that toothbrush?”

Che snorts. “Yes, actually.”

“Cool.”

Che still hasn’t moved.

“When did you take the Tylenol?” Colin asks after a moment.

“Couple a’ hours.”

“Make sure you take another dose before bed,” Colin says, and he half expects a sarcastic _yes, mom_.

Instead, Che drawls, “ _Aw_ ,” and presses up against Colin some more, mock swooning. “I _knew_ you cared!” he says.

“Lies,” Colin says, voice remarkably level, “I come here specifically to use your Wifi and watch your Netflix documentaries.”

“Nothing else?” Che says.

“Absolutely nothing,” Colin lies, and he’s grateful that when Che turns his head slightly, laughing into Colin’s shoulder, he can’t see the way it makes Colin grin.

 

In the morning, it takes a moment for Colin to remember where he is, and he peels himself off Che’s sofa slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. His watch tells him it’s nearly seven o’clock, and Colin shuffles blearily into Che’s kitchen to put on a pot of coffee before continuing on to the bathroom, where he brushes his teeth and showers quickly, throwing on his jeans and cardigan ensemble from the day before once more.

Then, because Colin figures realizing he’s sort of loves (or _something_ ) Che doesn’t really change anything, he pushes his way into Che’s room and pounces onto the bed in an effort to wake him up.

“Jost, you lunatic, I swear to God,” Che growls, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

“You’ll thank me once you’re up,” Colin says, bouncing up and down on his knees. “Come on, Michael!”

Che moans something into his pillow that sounds kind of like, “You’re awful,” but he lets Colin start to drag him out of bed without much of a fight. It’s only when Colin’s almost gotten Che upright that he dives back toward the bed, taking Colin with him.

“ _Che_ ,” Colin says in a strangled voice, though it’s more to do with the fact that Che’s arms are snaked around his waist and one leg  is thrown over Colin's thigh than it is to do with Che lying half on top of him in an effort to crush him into the mattress.

“S’too early to wake a man when he's sick, Colin,” Che says, sounding smug from above.

Colin stops squirming, lying limply. “Fine,” he says, and calls on a move he knows will work; “Spoon me, Michael Che,” he says.

Che laughs, and Colin can feel the movement of it all through his body. For one, thought-scrambling moment, all Che does is hug him tighter. Then he lets go, untangling himself from Colin. “Alright, you win, Jost. I’m awake now.”

 _Holy shit_ , Colin thinks propping himself up on his elbows and watching Che all but glide out of the room. _This is going to kill me._ He needs to buy Beck a drink sometime –the man deserves a goddamn medal.

The way he sees it, he’s got two options: actively try to date Che, or don’t do anything at all. And he’s terrible at _not_ doing anything, because Colin’s the kind of guy who _fixates_ , and he knows it. But he has to _try_ and restrain himself –right? At least for –for a week, maybe. To be sure. He doesn’t want to go after Che, realize that he’s not interested, after all -that he's just doing what everything thinks he should -and fuck everything up. There’s just so much at stake.

When he hears the shower running in the bathroom, Colin finally pulls himself off of the bed, making it neatly before going back into the living room and folding up the sheets he used for his couch-bed set up.

In the kitchen, he stacks the soup bowls from the day before back into the cupboards from where he put them in the dishwasher to dry overnight, and then he finds himself absently tidying up the counter.

“Are you cleaning my house, Jost?” Che says, strolling into the room. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I –yeah, I guess. Um, how’re you feeling today? You sound better.”

“You know what? I’m not bad,” he says, shrugging. “Don’t have to go in ‘till noon for dress rehearsals. I’ll be fine.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows; “Still worried about me?”

Colin puts on a serious expression, “I care deeply about your well-being, Michael,” he says gravely, and even though Che snorts, he seems pleased somehow, and Colin feels an unusual... flutter. _So much for restraint_ , he thinks dryly.

After a quick breakfast, Colin nags Che into taking another dose of cold medicine and then declares that he needs to stop by his own apartment before work. Walking out into the cold of the city feels a little surreal, like walking out of a bubble. All at once, reality sets in, and on the subway, Colin checks his messages, scrolling through business reminders and inquiries to see Beck’s ‘ _how’s it going_ ’ and Casey’s ‘ _crisis management update pls_ ’, and he’s about to respond to Casey’s message when a family voice catches his attention.

“Colin! It _is_ you.”

He looks up, and it’s no one else but Daisy Rose, grinning as she pushes her way over to him from the closing subway doors. She’s wearing a ridiculously large, lavender scarf around her neck and a matching beanie with a large fabric flower on the side and Colin fights the urge the recoil as she reaches him on the train.

“This is _such_ a coincidence,” Daisy gushes, “I didn’t think I’d ever see _you_ in person again,”

“Yes, well…”

“I just flew in from Seattle yesterday. It was _wonderful_ , but it’s so good to be home. I feel like I’ve been away for so long,” Daisy says, speaking quickly. “I _met_ someone, would you believe it? Just this morning, in the sweetest, quaintest, little coffee shop…” Her eyes turn upward, unfocused and dreamy.

Colin, meanwhile, struggles to conjure the image of any coffee shops in New York city that could be described as both sweet and quaint, since every one he’s ever been to has been crowded and bustling with activity.

“Enough about _me_ , though,” Daisy says, coming back to the present. “How are _you_ , Colin? You look…” she tilts her head to the side and looks at him, smile slipping a little. “Pensive. Do you want to talk it out? I’ve always found that getting an outsider’s perspective helps me with whatever is on my mind.”

“ _No_ , _I’m good_ ,” Colin opens his mouth to say. Then he stops and frowns. This _is_  a coincidence. “Daisy, you know a lot about, um, romance, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Daisy beams, “I’m an expert, remember? I was on that _lovely_ show of yours. Michael never called me, you know, but it was for the better, I realized. I am who I am today because of all the relationships of my past.”

Colin eyes her doubtfully. “ _Right_. Well –actually, I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“No,” Daisy cries, reaching out and gripping his arm, “Romance cannot be _contained_ , Colin Jost.” She looks around the crowded train. “This man is running away from love!” she says loudly.

 _Thank God for the apathy of New Yorkers_ , Colin thinks, because mostly everyone just ignores her.

“Colin,” she says, looking him with wide eyes,“You have to tell him how you feel,”

“How do you know it's-?”

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Daisy says, “Of course it is. Colin you _must_ tell him you're in love with him”

“–Now hold on a moment, here,” Colin interjects, even as alarms go off in his head. _In love?_ _Let’s not get ahead of ourselves._

“I’m a romantic-comedy expert, Colin,” Daisy says, shaking him a little. “If you don’t tell him how you feel, fate _will_ find a way to make things complicated –trust me.”

Colin stares at her. “Life isn’t a romantic comedy, Daisy,” he says finally, shaking his head. “And I’m –I’m just waiting a little, okay?”

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” she reminds him.

Just then, the subway tram comes to a halt at Colin’s stop. He shakes his head again. “I have to go”

“–I’ll walk with you!” Daisy says at once, and that’s more or less how Colin finds himself being followed home by an overly enthusiastic woman who is probably way too thrilled by his life’s dilemmas.

What are the chances, he ponders, that the day after he should realize his own feelings, he should run into Daisy Rose, an actual romantic comedy _expert_ ? _Yeah, that’s weird_.

“So, how long have you known Che, anyway?” Daisy inquires, “How long has this been going on for?”

“Four years or so,” Colin says, “But nothing’s ‘ _going on_ ’, Daisy,”

“But you want there to be,” she perceives, delighted.

“So?” Colin says, sulking a little because he can’t follow his instinct to loudly deny what she’s saying. She’s right, after all.

“You know,” Daisy says, “If you can open your eyes, so can Che. He’s part of this, too, you realize.”

“It’s not the same.” Colin says. “He’s”

“–Straight?” For the first time, Daisy’s genial image falters; in an unexpected display of attitude, Daisy rolls her eyes, and for a moment, she reminds him, strangely, of Vanessa. “Colin, please. Anyone would probably say the same thing about _you_ , you know.”

“But I’m just _ehh_.” Colin says, making an indifferent noise. He’s never really thought about it long enough to put a word to it; true, he’s only actually dated women since leaving college (and not all that many, either, if he’s to be honest), but at Harvard, he’d spent most of his sophomore year sleeping with guys and had concluded _not bad_. In the decade since and in between girlfriends, he’s had his share of one-night stands with men. He’s never thought of _dating_ one, though –it always seemed kind of just like having a fuck-buddy –but he knows right then that he wants to date Che. It wouldn’t be enough to just hook up once or twice. “Oh God,” he says aloud. “I want to _date_ Che.”

Despite the cold, Daisy fans herself with her hands and sighs, “I know, right?”

“What?”

“Is this your building?” Daisy says brightly, ignoring him to look up at the building he’s stopped in front of.

“Um, yeah,” Colin says. He pauses, sighs, and says, “Do you want to, like, come up for coffee… or tea?”

“ _Colin_ ,” Daisy says, “Oh, you're so considerate –but I can't stay, I have to run some errands. It was _so_ good to see you again.” She pats his arm fondly, looking up at him with shiny eyes. Her dimpled smile is watery and she says in a quivering voice, “Remember, love conquers all, Colin. I hope things work out for you.”

And he thinks, as he watches her go, that Daisy Rose might be somewhat delusional, and more than a little quirky, but maybe she's not so bad, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is much appreciated, as well as prompts for future fics? :) (Hint hint)
> 
> Also, if you can't tell by now, there's to be another chapter of this fic. I decided to post this chapter as is because the transition from where this chapter ends to where I wanted to go next in the fic would've been awkward if I mashed the parts together. Plus, now any readers out there can get a new chapter! Next chapter will be up ASAP. My school schedule right now is a little packed due to upcoming exams, but I really like working on this fic so rest assured that I will continue working on it any chance I get.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA well that took forever to update. REally sorry about that guys! My laptop is actually a piece of shit so it's up to random chance on whether or not it will start on any given day. I'm actually using my sister's laptop to update right now. That being said, the next update will come whenever I can get stuff written. I'll probably be typing stuff up with my fat fingers via mobile in the near future. -_-'
> 
> Anyway! Leave a comment if you want. I'd love to know what you guys think. The response to this fic has been amazing so thank you all so much. As far as the rest of this fic, I'm estimating that there will be at least two more chapters before the end. :)

In retrospect, the normality of the days following should’ve raised Colin’s suspicions, but dress rehearsals and the general chaos of preparing for the Saturday show distracted him from the surrealness of the fact that seemingly nothing had changed.

 

It all begins innocently enough, after the show.

Colin is pleased; the audience was responsive _Update,_ Martin’s hosting went smoothly, and the sketches were a hit. Che had indeed recovered fully by the live show, and as the stage lights dim on the _Weekend Update_ set, Colin turns to him to exchange a grin. Their last guest, Jacob the Bar Mitzvah Boy, is led out of the studio by producers while Colin and Che head backstage to change out of their suits before the closing of the show, when they’ll be expected back on to wave goodbye.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Colin says, loosening his tie as they make it to the dressing room. His blood is still singing with adrenalin from the show, same as always.

“It’s always good, man, even when it tanks,” Che says, as per his remarkably optimistic view on comedy, shrugging off his suit jacket. He turns around as he unbuttons his dress shirt and for a moment they stand there in silence, beaming in triumph and undoing buttons.

And then Colin's mind takes a sharp dive into the gutter, and he wonders what it would be like to unbutton Che’s shirt himself, or maybe just rip it right open and let the buttons scatter as they're torn from the cloth.

 _Nope_ , Colin thinks, turning quickly and hiding the way his cheeks flush as he grabs a sweater to pull over his undershirt. When he turns back, Che has already done the same and is tugging on a snapback.

“You good?” Che says,

“Yep,” Colin says, and he really hopes Che doesn't pick up on how flustered he sounds.

 

After that, it only gets worse. Later, Colin will reflect that Daisy Rose may have been onto something when she said fate would find a way to make things complicated, because for the following week, Colin feels a bit like he's going crazy;

 

As is tradition, the crew throws an afterparty that lasts well into the early morning. At nearly three o'clock, everyone who hasn’t already left to go bar-hopping begins to drift away and Colin goes back up to the offices to grab his things and make sure everything’s going to be in order until he comes back on Monday.

Somehow, Che is already there.

“I thought you went with Jay and Sasheer a while ago,” Colin says, surprised.

Che’s wearing his coat, which means he hasn't been lounging around, and is, in fact, waiting Colin. “Was _about_ to, y’know,” Che admits. He frowns, “But then I remembered that you started going home by yourself –like a sad, sad man, might I add –and also, it's the middle of December. In _New York._ ”

Colin feels a grin pull at his lips as he deciphers Che's words. “Why, _Michael_ ,” he says, placing his hands over his heart, “Are you saying that you're here to walk ‘lil ‘ole me home?”

Che rolls his eyes as he climbs to his feet, but he says, “ _Obviously_. Let's go.”

“I _was_ just going to take a cab, you know,” Colin says, pulling on his coat as he follows Che out of his office.

“Great,” Che says, throwing an arm around Colin’s shoulders and yanking his in roughly, “Then you can help a _kinda_ drunk black guy hail a taxi at who-fucking-knows o’clock in the morning.”

Colin snorts, but doesn’t shrug Che’s arm away, because he had a couple beers at the after party himself and he finds that the warm weight of Che’s arm is steadying as they head toward the elevators.

Outside, it is bitter cold, and there is light snowfall. Colin makes a sound sort of like “ _weh_ ” the moment they step outside, and makes an aborted attempt to turn right around and go back into the warmth of the lobby of 30 Rockefeller.

Che drags him to the curb instead, where Colin does indeed manage to hail them a taxi that they can split, because despite their different public transit routes, Colin really just lives a couple of blocks farther than Che. Such is New York.

Colin drifts into sleep in the cab, startling when he feels someone shaking his shoulder.

“Hey,” Che says, voice close to Colin’s ear. “I’m getting out, okay?”

“Hm? Sure,” he murmurs, straightening up. He squints into the dark of the car, turning to look for Che, whose face is unexpectedly close. Colin’s breath hitches and he stares, but he can’t see the expression in Che’s eyes in the dark, only the glint of light coming from a street light outside. “Oh.” he says finally. “Well, see you.”

“Get home safe, man,” Che says quietly, and then ducks out of the taxi.

Colin blinks rapidly, staring out the window and watching as Che heads up to his apartment and the cab pulls away. His heart is racing stupidly, and he thinks, _goddammit._

Sunday passes in relative peace. Colin sleeps in past noon, dwells on the mundanity of his life as he sorts through the week’s laundry, and then goes out with Casey for dinner. He avoids Casey’s questions about his vague texts from earlier in the week by keeping him talking about upcoming projects with UCB, and when that talking point goes dry, Colin goes on and on about the upcoming Christmas special with Amy Adams hosting and One Direction as musical guests, even after he’s run out of things to say. He almost gets away with it, too, until he checks his phone Monday morning on the train to work and sees a message from his brother that reads, ‘ _dont think i forgot abt ur CRISIS bro_ ’.

Monday, of course, means pitch meetings and writing, and the offices of _SNL_ are aflutter with the typical activities: short stretches of silence interspersed with loud outbursts of laughter or accented shouts, followed by more silence, followed by a sudden rush of half the writers to the coffee pot all at once.

Around noon, Colin emerges from his office to find that a number of the writing staff are gathered in a corner of one of the lounges on the far side of the floor, having entered the stage of the writing process where they ignore their work to discuss other, generally less pressing matters.

From the tail end of the conversation that Colin catches as he passes by the group on his way to the refrigerator to grab his lunch, it sounds as though the discussion for the day is centered around the upcoming holiday party.

Colin's seen his fair share of _SNL_ parties, but throughout the years, it's only ever the holiday party and the end-of-the-season party that are capable getting out of hand –although, granted, that mainly only happens when the party starts spilling out of 30 Rockefeller and into the various, underground clubs of New York City, which are only familiar to the writers and long-running cast-mates of _SNL_ due to the husband of Colin’s _Update_ predecessor.

When he gets back to his office, the first thing Colin notices is that his sofa is currently being occupied by one of his less frequent visitors.

“Oh, hey, Beck. What’s up, man?” Colin says, dropping his things on his desk and falling back into his seat.

Beck frowns. “I should just forget it, right?” He says, “I mean, what the hell am I doing?”

“What?”

He waves a hand around in the air, like ‘ _get with the program’_. “The other day –I started thinking, like, I went to _college_ with Kyle. Why am I still pining like the world’s most pathetic guy, huh? I really thought I’d have moved on by now, but it’s like –it’s just like a _thing_ , in the back of my mind. Even when I’m dating.”

Colin stares. “Ohh,” he says slowly, comprehending the reason behind Beck’s presence.

“Right, ‘ _ohh’,_ ” Beck says, “You're the only one in this place who decided to try telling me something I, you, and probably everyone in this office suspects –and in our cases, _knows_ –so now you're my confidante.” He slumps back in his sea, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Colin begins to wonder just how many emotions a guy can pent up in however many years Beck has known Kyle. He glances at his lunch, a sandwich and salad, and then back at Beck, who's doing a pretty solid imitation of a man at his wits’ end. “Beck, uh, how long have you been –well”

“–Pining miserably?” he supplies, “Since I opened my eyes one day like eight years ago and realized one of my best friends was the stupid fucking light of my life.”

“You know, I think you have more of a chance than you're letting yourself believe you do,” Colin says, but Beck just gives a dry laugh.

“Oh yeah? And how's it going with Che?”

“I'm working on it.”

“You haven't even decided if you want to do anything about it, have you?”

“No,” Colin concedes, grimacing slightly, “But I’m, uh, waiting a little bit,”

Beck shakes his head, “Well, word of advice: if you're not going to act on it, try to bury it as fast and deep as possible or you're going to be stuck like me, a decade later and still clinging onto a tiny sliver of unfounded hope.” He pauses, and adds wryly, “Bitterly.”

“You said you should just forget about it earlier, but then you said you're always thinking about it, in the back of your mind,” Colin says. “Wouldn't it be helpful to just, I dunno, talk about it?”

Beck laughs. “You don't want to play therapist on this one, dude, trust me.”

Colin frowns. “I really think you’re underselling yourself in all of this. I mean, you _do_ realize” –he stops, and says with a laugh, “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” Realizing that Beck doesn’t see half of what everyone else does puts things into new perspective. Maybe Colin should re-evaluate his outlook with Che as well.

“Realize what?” Beck says. “ _Colin._ ”

“The way Kyle looks at you, Bennett,” Colin says, “Oh my God, you have no idea, do you?”

“That’s not funny, Colin,” Beck says, paling.

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Look, I don’t mean to push you or anything  –feel free to tell me to shut up –but honestly, Beck? Do something. Just test out the waters, I don’t know.”

Beck stares at him, and his expression is unreadable.

Colin’s not sure if he’s about to get cussed out, or if Beck’s going to fall apart somehow, but either way, there seems to be a real chance of spontaneous human combustion occurring. He presses on, saying, “We’ll do this together, how about that? Worst case scenario we end up drunk and miserable under a table sometime in the future.”

These words seem to get through to Beck, whose expression relaxes. He rolls his eyes. “Right. _That’s_ the worst case scenario.” But he purses his lips for a moment, pensive, and then sucks in a deep breath. “Alright,” he declares, letting it out, and jumping to his feet, “Yeah, okay. I’ll –I dunno. But I’ll try. We’re both single right now. It’s a good opportunity and I…” He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Dare me,” he says.

“What?”

“I need you to dare me to go after Kyle. Then I _have_ to do it.” Beck says, as if that makes perfect sense. His eyes are still tightly closed, and his fists are clenched at his sides as if he’s preparing himself for a shock.

“Beck Bennett, I triple-dog dare you to tell Kyle Mooney know how you feel about him.” Colin says.

Beck nods fiercely, and opens his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Okay. Now I have to do it.”

“Soon,” Colin adds. “Like, before the end of the year.”

“What? That’s two weeks!” Beck says.

“I dare you,” Colin reminds him, shrugging. “And I’ll match you, anyway.”

“ _You'll_ make a move on Che before the end of this year?” Beck says. He raises his eyebrows as if to say _think about it._

“Yes.” Colin says, defiantly returning Beck's gaze. “Whether it works or not.”

Beck looks away, snorting. “You know,  we wondered why you didn’t really date. Dave said you could be asexual and Nick said you could be emotionally crippled from a past relationship –or you could be some kind of alien person.”

“Nick thinks half the people he meets are alien people,” Colin points out.

“Yeah, well, New Yorkers are weird.” Beck says. He heads to the door. “I’d better get back to work. Enjoy your lunch,”

“Hey, it’s gonna work out,” Colin calls.

“Try telling me that after New Year’s,” Beck says, already closing the door behind him.

Colin eats his lunch in thoughtful silence, wondering what to do, really, and trying to assess what his goals are as far as Che is concerned. Like Beck, he knows that his priority is to salvage his friendship, no matter what happens. Beyond that, he'd really just like to get kissed stupid, he thinks, and say “good night” every Saturday show knowing that beyond the _Update_ desk, Che is more than just his co-anchor.

 

#

“Someone looks burned out,” Che laughs, breezing into Colin’s office just after seven, when Colin himself has just returned from meeting with some of the writers to figure out the logistics for a promising sketch.

Colin snorts, but can’t help the tiny grin that spreads across his lips. He can, however, hide it, busying himself with unnecessary folder shuffling on his desk. When he looks up again, Che has made himself quite comfortable on the sofa, as per usual.

“Do you ever use your own office?” Colin wonders.

“Periodically,” Che says, “But this is a really nice couch,”

“Well, it came with the room,”

“Of course it did, these cushions are beyond your taste,”

“I'd be careful about insulting my tastes, Che. I picked you, didn't I?” Colin says, and for all his overthinking, it doesn't occur to him that he is doing what could be construed as flirting until Che raises an eyebrow at him. Colin responds with a level gaze, blinking innocently. He may as well roll with it and start testing the waters now, he decides.

Che shakes his head after a moment. “Everyone makes _some_ good decisions,” he says.

Colin rolls his eyes, though inside he breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe there’s some hope, after all. “Was there something particular you wanted to talk about?” he wonders.

“What, a guy can't come by for no reason?” Che says.

Colin snorts.

“Okay, so maybe I’m avoiding Aidy. She and Jay figured that I know something about the Beck-Kyle bet and they’re out for blood.” Che admits.

“Uh, you know my office is the first place most people would look for you, right?” Colin says. “I mean, you’re here a _lot_ , Michael.”

Che crosses his arms, “Are you kicking me out, Jost?” He says, but there’s a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth that says he’s amused.

“I’d be more explicit if I was,” Colin says. “Hold on – _do_ you know something about the bet?”

“ _Maybe_...”

“Come on, Che, I’m not in on it, remember?” he says, wheedling now, because he figures he should know whatever Che does for Beck’s sake, at least, not just because office gossip is absurdly titillating stuff.

Che looks about the room and moves to shove the door, which is slightly ajar, completely closed with his foot. “Okay, you know everyone jokes about Beck an’ Kyle. That’s why there’s the pool in the first place, obviously,”

“Yeah,”

“So the rules are, you can’t directly interfere with anything to try and win the bet, but you know, I thought I’d just talk to Kyle anyway. Dude hasn’t been on a date since he broke up with –what was her name? Angie?”

“So you talked to him under the pretense of trying to set him up on a date?” Colin guesses. He’s impressed, honestly. It’s a lot more subtle of his own approach of just marching into Beck’s office with the intention of laying it all out on the table.

“Well, kind of, yeah,” Che says, “So yesterday, I convinced him to come with me to _Hooyagoosyoughoooou!_ –I won’t be repeating that, by the way –’cause Sasheer mentioned it Saturday, and anyway, Kyle _kinda_ seemed interested in one of the Jewpids, but he ended up just talking to her for a _really_ long time, man.”

“He didn’t make a move?” Colin says.

Che shrugs. “You know Kyle. Guy can be smooth when he wants to be, but he was sticking to the lovable schmuck routine for some reason. Meanwhile, _I’m_ at the bar this whole time with Dave –who’s there too –and he says there’s no point trying to get Kyle to jump back in the dating pool. _Apparently_ , he’s real touchy about it if you just flat out bring up his love life.”

Colin sighs. “ _Che_ , a _lot_ of people are touchy about their love lives.” _Me, for example,_ he thinks.

“Patience, Jost,” Che says, standing and moving over to lean back against Colin’s desk. He towers over him that way, making his presence an inescapable sort of thing, and it’s more than a little distracting. Colin has to push his chair back to look up at Che, who doesn’t seem to have noticed anything awry as he continues, “Now, fast-forward like an hour or so: Kyle’s back at the bar and he has a couple of shots in him. I ask about Rebecca –the Jewpid –and Kyle says it wouldn’t work out, he wouldn’t be able to commit. Insert generic commitment joke from me”

“–Naturally,” Colin smirks,

“–and Kyle, who I should add, is semi-smashed at this point, blurts out that he thinks he’s in love with someone else, someone he’s known for a really long time.”

“He just said that?” Colin says, gaping. “That’s too easy!”

“Dude, I _know_ ,” Che says.

They stare at each other and Colin thinks, _I could kiss him right now._ They're that close. Have they always sort of gravitated this close? “Uh, so what then?” Colin says.

Che blinks. “Right, so I'm like, might as well ask. So I did. And he didn't say anything so I'm like ‘okay, I may've been pushing it’, and I'm about to be all ‘it doesn't matter, man, I was just askin', you don't actually have to say anything’, but then he says it, _real_ quiet, like under his breath: _Beck_.”

“Shit,” Colin breathes.

“I know. I mean, I feel like the bet’s one thing but now this is real shit. Kyle is actually in love. With _Beck_.” Che says. “Doesn't this, I dunno, _change_ things, man? They're both friends. Like, I don't wanna see ‘em hurt.”

“They won't get hurt,” Colin says, feeling a sense of determination fill him, “Che, Beck’s got it pretty bad for Kyle, too.”

Che’s jaw drops a little and then he groans. “Are you _serious_ ? They're both stupid for each other but too blind to realize all they need to do is _tell_ the other guy?”

“I mean,” Colin says, “I guess it would be kind of… intimidating, you know, to have to tell someone who you've known for a while, who's your friend, that they… That they mean the world to you, and that you love them.” He swallows hard and looks down, rubbing the back of his neck, before he can try and read too much into any reaction that might've flitted across Che's face. “Just a guess.”

“Colin,” Che says,

“Yeah?” He looks up, locking eyes with Che, who looks thoughtful.

“You know what this means, right?”

“Huh?”

“We have to get them together. Like, forget the bet, man, this is important now,” Che says solemnly.

“Oh, right,” Colin says. He's pretty sure that the sinking feeling he's getting at that moment is his heart, dropping into his stomach. _Get it together, Jost_ , he reprimands himself, _what did you think would happen? This is_ not _a romantic comedy._ “How do we do that?”

“I'll think of something,” Che says, standing straight, “Colin, we're gonna do this.”

“And meanwhile,” Colin says, “We'd better stop gossiping and get our work finished for today,”

“Well, it was a nice break,” Che says, sighing forlornly and dramatically beginning a sad shuffle toward the door.

Colin snorts. “I'll see you later, Michael,” he says. “Good luck with Aidy.”

Che looks back with a grin. “Don't forget, I'm enlisting your help, man.”

 

And that is how Colin finds himself squeezed into a supply closet with Che the next day during rehearsals.

“Well this is cozy,” he says, forcing all the steadiness he can muster into his voice, which is _really_ damn hard when he’s practically pressed chest to chest with Che. “But is there a reason you pulled me into so random closet with you this morning?”

Che grins. “Yeah. Measuring space.”

“Measuring space?” Colin says. “What, are you –oh my God,  are you planning on sticking Beck and Kyle in here? Seriously, Michael?”

“Yeah, why not?” Che says.

“And your plan is what, to just shove them both in here?”

“Pretty much,” Che says, “It’s pretty cozy, huh?”

They’re practically breathing directly into each others’ mouths. The spearmint gum on Che’s breath is very apparent to Colin, who mostly chews cinnamon himself. “You could say that.”

The door opens just then, filling the closet with light.

“Oh,” Vanessa says, startling. “There you two are.” She pauses. “What’re you doing?”

“Measuring space,” Colin and Che intone, grinning as they climb out and straighten out their clothes.

“Are we on?” Colin says, turning to Vanessa.

“Yeah, uh, Che, your neighbor Willie is here for the segment? We’ve told him what you’re going to ask him about and we told him to keep it light this time,” she says.

“Thanks, V,” Che says, already strutting down the hall toward the stage and the _Update_ desk for rehearsals.

Colin hurries after him. “So, what, do you really think trapping them in a closet will get anything done?” He hisses, “You realize that's cliche, don't you?”

“Cliches work,” Che says with a shrug. “And it's short notice. It's just a tiny push, you know? Make ‘em sweat a little.”

“And then what?” Colin challenges as they arrive at their desk and slide into their seats.

“I'm winging it,” Che says, and then offers what is really just an unfairly charming smirk just as a producer calls on them to ready themselves for a run through with the guests for Saturday.

 

The rehearsals go as well as expected, though historically the guests for _Update_ seem completely normal until the live broadcast. Although, in Che's neighbor Willie’s case, Colin isn't quite certain why they haven't found a less oddly-depressing person to give their take on current events. Then again, Colin thinks, reviewing the mental list of former _Weekend Update_ correspondents and guests, there's always been a place for quirky voices on the show.

“Has anyone seen Beck or Kyle?” Colin hears distantly as he and Che exit the studio for the day; he turns to Che with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Who did you rope into your schemes, Che?” He says.

Che blinks back at him, eyes wide, expression the picture of innocence –or as close as he can manage. There's still an amused glimmer in his eye. “Alright, I might have convinced Dave and Nick to help, you know, with the sneak attack,”

As if on cue, Nick and Dave materialize on either side of Che and Colin, each looking mighty smug with themselves as they head into the elevator.

“They've sent the SOS text,” Dave announces, “‘ _Beck and I trapped in closet’_ ,”

“What did you say?” Colin wonders,

“‘ _Everyone already knows that, dude’_ ,” Nick says before he and Dave burst into laughter.

“Jesus,” Colin says, torn between amusement, disbelief, and awe. They’ve arrived at the elevators up to the offices by then, and the doors opens almost at once. “Are you coming up?”

“Nah,” Nick says, exchanging a glance with Dave.

“Yeah, we have to pretend to find them in a little while,” Dave says. “You two go on. And hey –you know, I’m kinda glad you’ve decided to try this matchmaking thing –tropey as it seems.”

“What’s the point of tropes if you can’t use them for real life?” Che says.

“Hear, hear,” Nick declares in a mock British accent, and he  salutes Che and Colin as the elevator doors close.

Colin presses the button for floor seventeen, back up to the offices. “So, winging it, huh?” he says, leaning back against the back panel of the elevator.

“Yeah, I mean, it depends on how this turns out, y’know?” Che shrugs.

“How do you think it’s gonna turn out? Because I think both Beck and Kyle are perfectly capable of reasoning their way to comfortable denial.” Colin says. _Although_ , he thinks, _there_ is _the bet I made with Beck to consider_. Would Beck really jump at the opportunity so early on, though?

Che snorts. “Well, you’re not wrong there, man. At the same time, I think the close space will get them thinking about it. And then we give ‘em another push.”

“Right. _We_ ,” Colin says, “And next you’re going to tell me you’re going to use me for testing with the rest of your schemes?”

“I wouldn’t _tell_ you,” Che replies, grinning.

“Uh- _huh_ ,”

Che merely responds to Colin’s suspicious expression by leaning in a little, smile fading from his lips even if he can’t keep it out of his eyes.

Colin’s heart thumps only a _teeny_ bit in his chest. “If this is some kind of intimidation tactic,” he says –and his words come unexpectedly soft in the short distance between them – “then it’s not working.”

 _Ding!_ Light from the hallway of the seventeenth floor fills the elevator.

“Oh,” says someone off to the side, and it takes every ounce of self control not to jump back, though Colin is sure the rate at which he tears his eyes from Che’s could still be deemed as a sign of guilt by most of the human population –including Kenan and Kate, who are on their way down for their rehearsals.

“Hey guys!” Colin says, very aware of the strangled-cheerful edge to his voice. He can’t stop it. “Bye,” he adds, stepping by them and onto the landing.

“ _Mm-hm_ ,” he’s pretty sure he hears Kenan say as the doors close. His gaze snaps back up to Che, who seems completely unaffected, having noticed nothing out of place about the last minute or so.

 _Christ, you’re_ thinking _too much!_

“So, you got anything else going on this evening?” Che says.

“Not unless someone tracks me down to talk logistics,” Colin replies, shaking his head. “Why?”

“It’s too early for dinner, but we could get coffee?” Che says, “At the place, ya know, the one down the street.”

“Yeah, sure, I could use some caffeine,” Colin agrees. “Wow, I haven’t been there in a while, actually.”

“Yeah, cool man. I just needa get some stuff. We’ll meet back here in five?” Che says.

“Sure.”

It’s not until Colin’s made it back to his office that a small voice in the back of mind pipes up, _this isn’t a date, right?_ He freezes, frowns, and replays the conversation in his head. “No, of course not,” he mutters. “Get it together, Jost.” Sadly, it seems as though he’s been telling himself that a lot, lately.

Che is waiting by the elevators by the time Colin gathers his things and goes to join him.

The walk to the coffee shop is a familiar one, even if though they haven’t been for a while, and it’s barely packed at three in the afternoon.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Someone –the barista – crows as they walk in. “Look who it is, our favorite couple,”

At Colin’s side, Che makes a noise that seems like a hybrid between a snort of amusement and a strangled yelp of surprise.

“Hi, Maggie,” Colin says, approaching the counter, “How’re you?”

“Not bad. Wow, I haven’t seen you in a while,” she grins, looking from Colin to Che. “Right. So, the usual?”

“You remember?” Che wonders, impressed.

“Oh sure,” Maggie says, already ringing up the orders. “Memory of steel. Five-ninety.”

“I’ll get it,” Che says.

They take their drinks to go after waving Maggie goodbye. For his part, Colin doesn't so much as drink his coffee as he does nervously sip at it. His mind is in overdrive now that he's decided on his own that this is a Maybe-Date, and he thinks, _it's one thing wanting to go out with Che_ _and another to actually try._ Making the bet with Beck seemed simple at the time.

“Everyone in that coffee shop thinks we're together, don't they?” Che says suddenly, breaking the silence between them just as they make it to the other end of the block.

Colin's automatic response is, apparently, a weak laugh that sounds more than a little guilty. There's something in Che's voice, though –something hesitant that suggests he isn't just making an amused observation.

They stop on the sidewalk and Colin looks at Che. “Well, uh, yeah. Maggie does, anyway.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, it's a harmless misconception.”

“Sure.”

Colin clears his throat. “It, um, doesn't it bother you?”

Che blinks slowly, expression hard to read, and then he shrugs. “No,” he says, “it's just not true, though.”

Colin deflates a little. _Ha_ , he thinks, _tell me about it._                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I know I said Tuesday or Wednesday of this week, but the results of the election really shocked me. I was in no place to finish this chapter as planned, but watching Chapelle on SNL tonight inspired me to finish. More notes at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!

People are staring at Colin oddly when he makes his way into the office the next day, which makes him duck into the bathroom before he goes into his office to check for anything on his face. There’s nothing –no toothpaste or breakfast crumbs –so Colin frowns briefly into the mirror before heading out again.

A couple of the writers smirk at him as he passes, giving him –not the Look, per se, but something close and knowing.

He thinks back to the evening before, but he’s pretty sure nothing scandalous occurred. After getting coffee with Che, they’d wandered around the streets for a while, spent some time rifling through a records shop and then had almost gotten kicked out of a used bookstore for laughing a little too uproariously at the erotic novels covers. Dinner at a pizza place between friends wasn’t exactly anything for people to be eyeing Colin strangely for, either, and besides –only Che would’ve known about all that.

Colin’s bemusement ends fairly quickly, however, when he finally does arrive at his office and finds his desk crowded with bouquets upon bouquets of flowers. His first thought is, _but it’s winter_ , and then he says, “What the fuck?”

Behind him, someone let’s out a shrill wolf whistle and people erupt into a flurry of snickers and laughter. To Colin's left, he suddenly smells coffee.

“First impression?” Che says, offering Colin a second cup.

“Why are there flowers in my office?” Colin narrows his eyes and turns to stare at Che. “Did _you_ put them there?”

Che grins. “Yeah. Like ‘em?”

Colin sputters. “Well –I mean, they're _nice_ , Michael, but –Jesus –why are there so _many_? And also, 'why' in general?”

“It's a romantic gesture. Do you think it'd work? Do you feel _romanced_?” Che says, smirking.

“I'll tell you why it _won't_ work,” Colin says, “It’d be really damn suspicious if all these flowers happened to someone else after everyone in the office has definitely witnessed _this_ mess.”

“Mess?” Che says, clutching his chest. “I romantically gestured for you, Jost!”

“ _I_ might feel romanced, but like I said, I think you might've shown your hand here, Che.” Colin says, “How's this gonna help Kyle And Beck now?”

“Hm. Guess it won't,” Che says. “It'll have to be just for you then,”

For once, Colin can't brush it off and feign indifference; he simply gapes, unable to muster even the lamest of witty responses. “Oh,” he says. “Uh.”

Che looks past Colin into his office. “Y’know, I always thought giving someone a shit load of flowers was a weird thing to find romantic. Flowers got, like, bugs in ‘em.”

“They don't smell the great, either,” Colin says, finding his voice. “I never got why people liked the whole floral scent.”

“Smells like dirt,” Che agrees.

Colin looks down, at the coffee Che’s brought him. He takes a sip. It's the good stuff, from down the block. “Well, I’m not dealing with this,” he decides. “It’s too early. I’m using your office. Is Pete in?”

“Nah. He’s out filming the digitals,” Che says. “Come on.”

Sitting in Che and Pete’s office somehow reminds Colin of the early days, when he and Che were both writers. It's probably because of the amount of mementos Pete keeps in the room and the clutter. Colin keeps his own office orderly, or as best as he can manage, in some attempt to keep the place looking professional and befitting of someone with a head writer credit.

“So, any word on what happened with Kyle and Beck?” Colin wonders, settling down at Pete’s desk. “I mean, after Nick and Dave presumably let them out of your trap?”

“Not a word,” Che says, seeming smug by this; “Which means something happened, right? Otherwise they'd be out for blood.”

“True,” Colin muses, and as he says this, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, which is a real pain, because he has yet to unravel all of the winter layers he has on and so reaching his phone takes a lot more fumbling than necessary.

“So, the holiday party this week,” Che begins, meanwhile, “I was thinkin’, I dunno, it’s probably, uh, _really_ stupid, actually, but…”

Colin’s phone buzzes again, just as he’s managed to dig it out from under his coat. The text on the lock screen is from Beck –and it’s in all caps; ‘ _JOST_ ’, says the first message, and then: ‘ _WE NEED TO TALK_ ’. “Shit,” he mutters.

“I –what?” Che says,

Colin looks up, “Uh, I have to go. What did you say, though? You know what, tell me again later, okay? See you at rehearsal,” he says, getting up in a hurry. There's something about an all-caps text, he thinks, that induces a kind of panic deep within him. He's sorry to run off, but if Beck is experiencing any kind of breakdown, it might be Colin's fault.

He rushes off with a final wave toward Che, whose eyebrows are raised in bemusement.

Colin moves toward Beck and Kyle’s office, artfully dodging potential small talk as he goes. He’s nearly to the door when someone grabs him by the arm and yanks him off to the side,

“He hates me,” Beck hisses,

Colin blinks, trying to process the change in surroundings; Beck has pulled him into a narrow hall cutting through the floor, just around the corner from his and Kyle’s office.

“What?” Colin says,

“Yesterday –Nick and Dave –trapped in a friggin’ _supply_ closet –I panicked okay and –he hasn't said _anything_ to me”

“–hey,” Colin says loudly, cutting through Beck’s babbling. He grabs Beck by the shoulders. “It's okay. Did something happen?”

Beck shudders, looking vaguely ill. “I'm not sure,” he says. “I… so Nick and Dave decided to prank me and Kyle by throwing us in a closet and I thought ‘hey, might as well do something’ and –Jesus, Jost, the bet –goddammit…”

Colin frowns. “So what happened?”

Beck throws his hands up. “It was dark. I sort of just –I kissed him. I don't know what I was thinking.”

Feeling a sense of dread for Beck, Colin asks in a hushed voice, “And now he won't talk to you?”

“No,” Beck says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We made out.”

Colin stares, thrown. “Well, great then, right?”

“No!” Beck exclaims, “Five minutes later, the door opens, he gets this expression like I just killed his mom, and _now_ he won't talk to me.”

“But he’s in love with you,” Colin blurts out, bewildered.

“He’s –no, don’t you get it? I _fucked up_. And he keeps making excuses not to talk to me,” Beck slumps back against the wall across from Colin, looking hollow and defeated and Colin feels a little like his heart is plummeting into his stomach, which is probably why he feels sick for Beck.

“I’ll talk to him,” Colin finds himself saying, “Or I’ll make Dave talk to him. He’s –confused.”

Beck doesn’t really respond, other than to stare at the ground and sigh as if to say _it’s hopeless_. “There’s no point,” he mutters.

“Hey,” Colin says, grabbing Beck by the shoulders once more and shaking him firmly. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I shouldn’t have done anything,” Beck bemoans.

“Well, I did dare you.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, briefly surprised out of his self-pity at Colin’s blasé response, and Colin tells Beck once again, “I’ll talk to him. Alright? Deep breath.”

Beck nods like he’s trying to believe Colin’s reassurances. “I have… work,” he mutters, turning away.

Colin watches him shuffle back around the corner to his and Kyle’s office, feeling unsettled and then begins his way back toward his office, feeling just as off balance. It's not until he arrives and enters a room full of bouquets that he recalls why he’d come from Che's office in the first place.

Leslie's sitting on his couch, though, sort of curled up next to a potted peace lily, and she looks up from her phone when Colin enters the room. “There he is,” she says, “What’s goin’ on?”

Colin looks around the garden that his office has become, frowns, and moves the peace lily to the ground to sit down next to Leslie. And then, because it's Leslie, he tells her everything.

Afterwards, she gives a loud groan. “ _Jost_ ,” she says, “Whad’I tell you? Kyle an’ Beck are _different_. You can't just meddle in that!” She shakes her head. “Y’know what, I'll take care of _them_. Tell your boy Che t’quit messin’ with ‘em, too.  I _know_ he is. How's it going with him, anyway?”

Colin scrubs a hand over his face. “I don't even know.”

Leslie grins. “But you do wanna bump uglies, right, though?”

“ _Leslie_!” Colin says, but she merely laughs.

“Oh, Colin,” she says, shaking her head before looking at him critically. “So, what's your plan, huh?”

Colin shrugs, feeling a little sheepish, and Leslie groans again.

“Seriously?”

“C’mon, Leslie, I don't even know if he’s”

“-Oh, Jesus, Lord, oh my God,” Leslie says, looking up at the ceiling. She pressed her hands together in prayer. “Dear, sweet, baby Jesus:  _help this fool_.”

“I'm not kidding, Leslie,” Colin insists, “If he turns me down, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I'd have messed everything up.”

Leslie looks at him, expression softening, “Colin,” she says, “ _If_ Che is stupid enough to say no to you, first of all, I’mma whoop his ass. Second, you should know, but is Che the type a’ guy who's gonna just stop talkin’ t’you just ‘cause things get a little awkward for a little bit?”

“But what about _me_?” Colin says.

“It'll suck, but then you'd know. And you could move on.”

“I don't _want_ to move on,” Colin says, and he knows he sounds petulant, but he can't help it. “Che's one of my best friends. I like _him._ ”

Leslie doesn't respond right away. Instead, she just gives him this kind of look. Not _the_ Look, but pretty close. She grins, and now it's Colin's turn to groan.

He buries his face in his hands.

“Go get ‘im, Jost,” Leslie says, patting his shoulder.

 

#

He doesn’t go back to Che’s office right away. Instead, Colin heads to the elevators, and rides down to the eighth floor to an impromptu drop-in on his old friend and _Update_ predecessor, Seth Meyers.

Seth’s door is open, so Colin merely knocks on the inside of it as he enters the room.

“Colin,” Seth says, looking up from his computer. He smiles, both pleased and surprised, and says, “What’s happening?”

Colin looks around the room. He hasn’t been down to Seth’s new office that much, but it doesn’t look to have changed all that much since the last time he visited. It’s still neat and orderly, much like his own office, but unlike Colin, Seth’s office is also decorated by a number of framed photographs. Some of them are photos of Seth’s time from _SNL_ , but even more of them are photographs of his home life, including a prominent photo on his desk from Seth’s wedding day.

“When did you know you were in love with Stefon?” Colin blurts out.

Seth raised his eyebrows. “Well, to be honest, probably when I thought that I was going to lose him to Anderson Cooper, and I realized how much I didn’t want that to happen,” he said, “Why?”

 Colin cringes a little, even though he should’ve expected the question. “I’m thinking about –I mean, I want to…” He sighs, and begins again. “I like Che. A _lot_. I don’t know what to do, to be honest. It’s stupid, maybe, because I know he's not like that, but what if I try –what if I put myself out there, and I end up losing him?” He asks, finishing quietly. Finally declaring this nagging fear aloud leaves him feeling more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with, but he stands his ground, determinedly facing Seth, waiting for him to speak reason.

Seth gets the Look on his face, but Colin finds that he doesn’t mind all the much; when Seth does it, he does so with an air of understanding. “Colin,” he says, “Remember a couple of years ago, when I thought you were dating Che and tried to talk to you about it?”

“Yeah,”

“And you laughed?”

“I remember,” Colin says. It _had_ seemed hilarious at the time, the notion that anyone thought he was dating Che.

“Do you know _why_ I thought you were dating Che?” Seth asks.

Colin frowns. “I mean, no, I guess not.”

Seth waves a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit down.”

Colin does, feeling a little bit like he’s back in college meeting with his advisor. The feeling passes quickly, however. He’s known Seth for years, now. He was at the very wedding pictured on Seth’s desk as one of the groomsmen.

Seth touches his fingertips together and looks thoughtful for a moment, as if determining the best way to begin what it is he wants to say. “Okay,” he says finally, “I’ve known you for, what, about a decade now. At _SNL_ , you’ve gotten excited with pitches before, sure, but you never had much to say about who we hired –and yet, you submitted Che for consideration as a guest writer, and then you _fought_ for him to be hired for the regular staff. That in itself was something I never expected from you, if I’m to be totally honest. Point being, I initially thought you were dating because of –it’s hard to explain, but –it’s the way you look at each other. Or watch each other. Or stand together. Stefon would probably say you just _vibe_ , I guess. You’re complementary.”

Colin thinks about this. “I’ve never noticed,” he admits, “Until recently, I didn’t really think about how maybe…”

“You don’t act that much like ‘just friends’?” Seth offers.

“Yeah,” Colin says.

“Look,” Seth says, “If you’re worried Che will cruelly reject you, I think you can rest easy. Don’t overthink. Just _do_. If I kept overthinking and didn’t listen to Amy when she told me to go to Stefon, he might be married to _Anderson Cooper_ right now. _Anderson. Cooper_ , Colin. I know Che’s not exactly in danger of marrying some other, perfect news anchor, but do you really want to waste any more time?”

“No,” Colin concedes.

“Then that’s settled,” Seth says.  “You’re going to ask him on a date, and you’re _not_ going to overanalyze it.”

“Well, I probably am,” Colin points out. “But yeah. I’ll do it. Thanks, Seth.”

Seth nods. “Anytime,” he says as Colin gets to his feet. “We should meet up for drinks sometime –I feel like we haven’t hung out in a while.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Colin says, but his mind is already drifting back up toward the seventeenth floor.

By the time he steps out onto the floor, it feels like hours since he first arrived that morning. He’s slightly behind on his work for the morning which is apparent by the number of crew member that approach him to consult on various sketch logistics. He ends up bouncing from cubicle to office to cubicle for most of the rest of the morning, and for all that time, he doesn’t see Che once.

Colin’s not sure what to make of that; he’s not sure if he’s glad for the lack of distraction or if he misses having Che around to keep him from stressing too much, but frankly, he doesn’t have much time to contemplate it all, anyway.

Around noon, Colin has a brief meeting with Lorne and the producers where they give a quick overview of the planned show. After that, Colin has to go down to 8-H to meet with directors and supervise the blocking of some of the sketches.

Throughout rehearsals, Colin’s pleased to note that Beck appears significantly less shaken, though it’s clear to see that something’s wrong anyway; between his sketches, rather than gravitate toward Kyle, Beck sits in the audience by himself, determinedly watching the other sketches and never once looking over to where Kyle is talking to Aidy. Half way through afternoon rehearsals, though, Colin notices Leslie slink onto set and sit down with Beck, and a couple minutes of listening to Leslie talk, Beck suddenly looks at her with a look of such shock and revelation, Colin sort of wants to just go over and find out what’s happened.

Instead, he remains at his supervisory position with no reprieve until the One Direction kids get on stage for a run through of their musical performances. They've also got their sketch to run through, but as musical guests, there's enough other people overlooking One Direction’s appearances that Colin's not needed.

As a result, he ducks out around three o’clock, weary but satisfied with the production status of the show. It's not until he’s trudging toward his office that Colin recalls that it's most likely still filled to the doorway with flowers and he sighs, mentally resolving to call up someone to help him clean up once he fights his way to his office phone with all the essential building extensions listed on a card on the cradle.

When he opens the door, though, the room is spotless, completely void of plants, which are replaced instead by Michael Che, sitting on Colin’s couch and doing something on his phone like he’s been waiting a while.

Colin feels his stomach do a little flip. “Hey,” he says, feeling off-guard.

Che sighs dramatically. “ _Fi_ nally. I’m starvin’.”

Colin is, too; he’s been running on a couple of carrot sticks and crackers from a snack table he passed on his way to rehearsals. He checks his watch, just for something to do, to take his eyes off Che for a moment and recompose himself a little on the inside. “So, really late lunch or early dinner?” he asks, careful to make his tone light and casual.

“Are you free now?” Che says, standing up. He does a little stretch to the side, which lifts the hem of his sweater, exposing the smooth, dark skin of his midriff.

Colin blinks rapidly and glances away, pushing the inexplicable urge he has at that moment to slide his hands up under Che’s hoodie and feel the softness and warmth of the skin hidden beneath. He swallows hard. “Yeah, I'm free.”

“Good. I haven't seen you since this morning. I felt kinda bad about filling your office up with all those flowers, but it looks like you weren't even around,”

“Oh, so you cleaned up this place? How?” Colin wonders.

Che shakes his head, snorting with amusement as he picks up his coat and puts it own. “If I could get ‘em all in here, don't ya think I'd be able to get them out, too?”

“I guess,” Colin follows Che out into the hall, “Where are we going, then?”

“Dunno. You feelin’ Chinese food?”

“I need to get my coat,” Colin remembers abruptly. He frowns, realizing he's not actually completely sure where it is. “Christ. I _think_ it's with one of the writers somewhere. I didn't leave it in my office...”

“I have another coat,” Che says suddenly, “in my office. C’mon, we’ll just stop there, no problem.”

 _It is a problem_ , Colin thinks to himself moments later. The winter coat Che's leant him is slightly large on him, which isn't an issue in itself, except that wrapped within the coat, it becomes abundantly clear to Colin that the whole thing smells like a mix of Che's aftershave and body spray, and so wearing Che's coat feels a lot like he's just getting hugged by Che himself.

He zips up the jacket and turns back to Che, who's just watching him with an odd expression. “Ready to go now, Michael,” Colin says, and is somewhat embarrassed to hear the way his voice comes out, soft and low.

“Uh-huh,” Che goes, pivoting sharply and moving for the exit.

They manage to find comfortable conversation in discussing the upcoming special, and by the time they reach the lobby, they've moved on to the topic of the holiday party.

“I've actually only been to two a’ them,” Che muses when Colin asks him what he thinks the staff writers, as per tradition, have planned for the party.

“Oh, that’s right,” Colin remembers. “You were there last year, though.” He grins, “Kate got you under the mistletoe.”

Che rolls his eyes, but he's grinning, too. “Yeah, well hopefully – _shit_ ,” he says, cutting himself off as they step outside and are hit with a biting-cold gust of wind. “Fuck Chinese, man,” he says, “where's the _closest_ place to eat?”

Colin laughs and then shivers, and is surprised when Che grabs one of his arms and drags him in front of him like a shield against the cold.

“Hey!” Colin protests as Che begins moving them forward in this manner. “You’re _taller_ than _me_ ,”

“So there’s more of me that gets cold,” Che says,

“That is such _bullshit_ ,” Colin says, twisting out of Che's grip and ducking behind him in a reversal of roles.

Che laughs and as they reach a crosswalk, he abruptly catches one of Colin's wrists and pulls him around, sliding his opposite arm around Colin's waist to help maneuver him around.

Colin isn't exactly sure what happens next, except that he turns half to the side as Che's pulling him around, and they end up chest-to-chest. He stares up Che and finds his surprise mirrored back in his eyes. Colin is also distinctly aware of Che's arm, still snaked around his waist, now hugging him to Che.

His heart thumps in his chest. The thing is, he can feel the pulse of Che’s heartbeat as well.

‘ _Fuck it_ ,’ Colin thinks, and he reaches up, cupping Che’s jaw, but when Che merely looks at him, his resolves falters. “Um,” he says, not quite knowing where to go from there, but it turns out not to matter because Che leans down and kisses Colin, right there on the sidewalk.

The moment their lips touch, a shiver that has absolutely nothing to do with the weather runs down Colin’s spine.

Che kisses like he could slow down time. His mouth moves against Colin’s, languid, but deep –hungry –savoring each and every second.

“ _Hey, move it, fellas_!”

They break apart, shocked into reality again by a shouting passerby, and Colin looks around dizzily to see New Yorkers streaming around them to cross the street. Everything comes back into focus in full sound and color, and Colin turns back to Che, feeling breathless, his mouth still burning from the kiss. “So,” he begins in a choked voice, “Um.”

Che looks at him with that some sort of odd expression that he gets from time to time that Colin can never place. “Yeah,” Che says, “Um.”

“That was…”

“A joke?” Che says.

Colin thinks he should feel his heart sink, or maybe feel panic set in at those words, but he sees the way Che’s trying to suppress a shit-eating grin and so instead, Colin slaps his arm. “I swear to God, Michael, you started it!” he says.

Che throws his head back, laughing, “I almost got you,” he says, “I could see it –you almost thought”

“-that’s not funny, you dick,” Colin insists, but the dumb grin he can’t keep off his face now takes all the bite out of his words. All he knows is a wordless, giddy feeling, standing there on the street corner with Che.

Che steps closer and snags Colin’s hand, reeling him in easily and pulling him into an embrace.

Colin’s hugged Che before –in greeting, in celebration, in jest –but never like this, never with this sense that there’s no necessary limit to it. He wraps his arms around Che and buries his face into his shoulder.

“Probably could've done this sooner,” Che muses. “You got a crush on me, Jost?” He teases.

“You're the one with the crush,” Colin mutters.

“Hey,” Che says, “look at me a second,”

Colin does, leaning back just enough and tilting his head back. “What?” He says.

“Those flowers were kinda for you, you know,” Che says, “I _was_ romantically gesturing for you.”

Colin looks at him, searching Che’s face. His returning gaze is steady, but there’s an uncertainty in his expression that isn’t normal to Che’s demeanor. “Have you been romantically scheming, Michael Che?” Colin asks, joking lightly.

“I figured… Clichés aren’t that subtle.”

“The supply cupboard?” Colin remembers.

“Yeah, well…” Che shrugs. “It worked, sorta, right?”

“I liked you before this week, Michael,” Colin says, matter-of-fact.

The odd expression and the uncertainty are nowhere to be seen when Che give Colin one of his slow-spreading smiles. He steps back, but doesn’t let go of Colin’s hand. “Good,” he says. “You wanna go get somethin’ to eat now? ‘Cuz I’m still really, really hungry.”

Colin snorts. “Yeah, definitely,” he says, “Although” –and he darts forward quickly, leaning up and pressing his mouth to Che’s in a brief kiss. “Okay. Just making sure.” He says.

Che shakes his head, but he’s never been good at keeping a straight face, so his grin looks as goofy as Colin’s probably is as well. He tugs Colin forward with him as the crosswalk turns to ‘WALK’ again. “Colin, just for future reference, y’know, you can kiss me whenever you damn please.”

There’s a warm feeling that has blossomed in Colin’s chest and in spite of the bitter cold, as they walk hand in hand down the street, Colin doesn’t feel cold at all, and that’s some rom-com bullshit if he’s ever heard some, but if that’s how his stupid life is, he thinks, ‘ _whatever_.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. HOWZAT.
> 
> In all honesty, I wasn't sure if I rushed the ending there, so please let me know what you thought! The fic is NOT over yet; there's still one or two more chapters, although I am beginning to wonder whether I might save the Kyle/Beck story line for a second fic/sequel kind of deal. I mean, it definitely could be resolved, by the end of this fic, but I'm not sure how invested y'all are in it. Would anyone be interested in seeing a sequel of sorts that gives insight into the Kyle/Beck plotline?
> 
> Alright, that's all I've gotta say for now. Thoughts? Comments? Anything you're wondering about for the future of the fic? Leave a review! The amazing response I've gotten from all of you was really was encouraged me to keep writing this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to everyone who has left kind words of encouragement, both on this fic during my hiatus and on my Beck/Kyle fic. All those comments really made me want to push on, even though I really wasn't sure about myself and my writing. I'm still not sure that this chapter is up to par with previous ones, but I'm glad that I'm posting it. 
> 
> There's still one or two chapters left of this fic, depending on how things go! Thank you to everyone who has read and/or is still reading this fic. 
> 
> As usual, no beta for this chapter so all mistakes are my own and I apologize in advance (I always ends up finding typos when I'm reviewing the chapter later -_-')
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by this instagram post, which has me dead even to this day: https://www.instagram.com/p/BO5V4UgAakH/

It's weird how so little seems to change.

Sure, Colin senses that there's been a slight shift in what is deemed acceptable personal space between himself and Che, but when he considers it, he supposes that the space between them had always been sort of small, so 'slight' may be too small for anyone else to notice.

After winding up in a Bar & Grille a block or so from 30 Rock, Colin and Che pass their meal with the usual sort of back and forth about work and the world. Che continues to take every possible opportunity to tease Colin and Colin responds as he normally would, with quick retorts and dry wit.

The differences, though, are hard to miss. When they head back to 30 Rock, Che takes his hand jokingly, batting his lashes overly-sweet when Colin glances over, but neither of them let go as they walk, a silent agreement that no, it's not a joke. When they come to the crosswalk again, Che turns to Colin with a grin and waggles his eyebrows and Colin rolls his eyes in mock-reluctance before he leans up and kisses Che until they get yelled at to cross again.

"Are we gonna be _those_ people?" Che muses, snickering at the idea as they hurry to the other side of the street.

"I'm pretty sure it's our right for at least a month or something," Colin says.

"A month?"

"At least," he says.

When they arrive back to the _SNL_ offices, Colin wonders, observing a stray Look from an intern who walks by, if it seems from the outside as though anything has changed between him and Che.

"Al _right,"_ comes a voice near Colin's ear and he has about half a second to brace himself for when Taran claps him and Che on the shoulders, standing between them. "So it looks like I win the pot, huh? You know, Vanessa and Jay tried to get you a couple weeks back with that blind date set up, but I said let's be real, guys, office holiday party, right?"

Che snorts. "Dunno, Killam, Leslie said before the party, didn't she? And it's Thursday."

"Oh, you're right. Fuck." Taran says as Colin turns to look at Che with raised eyebrows.

"You knew there was a pool about us?"

Che laughs –a tad nervously, Colin thinks, but he's not sure. "Kinda," he admits. "Leslie might've cornered me to say something about getting my head outta my ass. You know."

"Meddling!" Taran says, "She meddled. That doesn't count. Leslie!" he calls, whipping his head around and searching the immediate area for any clues of her presence. He hurries off with an over the shoulder "Congrats on boning" that makes Colin's face turn warm as he anticipates that part of his immediate future.

Che watches Taran disappear around a cubicle. "Huh," he says. "How d'you think he knew?"

Colin looks between them, at what he figures is appropriate college-distance. _Hell if I know_ , he thinks, and guesses aloud, "Taran knows everything?"

That earns a snort from Che, who begins heading down the hall again. Colin follows, and they end up in his office, which still sort of has the potted soil-flower smell. With blocking rehearsals over with, the rest of the day is scheduled for coordinating with makeup and other aesthetic planning, but Colin figures they probably have a couple of minutes before hair & make-up hunt them down.

He shrugs off his –rather, Che's –winter gear and puts it on his chair and when he turns, Che is standing there and Colin finds that it's not all that startling –the proximity –and then he doesn't think about anything at all, because Che has one hand in his hair and the other cupping his jaw and they're kissing again.

Colin loses track of time.

It is, he knows in the back – _way_ back –of his head, unprofessional to be making out with Che during work, with the door open and anyone liable to walk in and see them, but when it comes to Che, Colin's instinct to be responsible has always been somewhat skewed. It doesn't help that Che is stupidly good at kissing –although, sure, Colin's is probably biased. It's a little difficult not to be when Che has him pushed up against the side of his desk and is sucking on his bottom lip while his hands roam up Colin's sides, across his chest. When he cups the back of Colin's neck, his fingers brush against the side of his neck, near his ear, and Colin abruptly lets out a giggle and Che begins pressing small kisses up along his jawline and it's weird how Colin can sense that he's grinning.

"Honestly, I thought you knew," Che admits, leaning back enough to look Colin, "About the pool, y'know? Never said anything about it, though, so I figured…"

Colin blinks a couple of times, trying to jumpstart his higher brain functions in order to respond. "The pool about us?" he says, and gives a dry laugh. "Michael, if it makes you feel better, I didn't even realize I _like_ you like –like _this_ until last week, and after that, frankly, I did figure there was _probably_ a pool."

"I was there when they started it," Che says.

Colin tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Did you place a bet?"

"Nah. It was back when I first started _Update_. I thought, you know, it was just a dumb joke. Back then, you were just hot, nothin' to it."

"And now?"

Che's hands come to rest on Colin's hips. "You're sorta funny lookin' now, but you got a shining personality to make up for it."

"Good to know," Colin deadpans.

"And I'm glad you're not as straight as I thought," Che adds.

"I could say the same about you," Colin says. He considers Che. "This is fine, right? I mean, we're good together."

"You doubting?" Che raises his eyebrows but doesn't move away.

"Fuck –no, I mean –this doesn't change _that_ much, does it?" And Colin senses that he may be talking himself into a hole here, but he doesn't know how to _not_ second-guess his personal life. Plus, he thinks, it's not as though he's _second-guessing_ so much as he's trying to _define_ what everything is and put it in a neatly labeled box.

"Colin, man, it's not like we're not still _friends_ or _working_ together," Che says.

"We're not _just_ friends, though?"

Che snorts. "I dunno about you," he says dryly, "But I don't put my tongue in just _anyone_ 's mouth, I don't fill _anyone_ 's office with flowers, I don't"

"–okay," Colin laughs, "I get it." He presses his mouth to Che's. "There. More than friends." Then he kisses Che again, taking his time, making it sweet.

"Colin Jost, you're a sap." Che declares.

"Says the guy who romantically gestured."

"You got me there."

They grin at each other and Colin give Che a gentle push. "Work," he reminds him, finally caving to the growing urge to be a responsible employee.

Che sighs melodramatically. "If you _insist_ ," he says, beginning an exaggerated shuffle toward the door. He reaches out a hand. "Remember me."

"I'll do my best," Colin replies, amused.

When Che is gone, the room feels a little colder –an irrational feeling, Colin knows, and he shakes his head a little and is able to collect himself by doing a routine overview of his desk, schedules, and various, listed reminders. He feels a little like he's floating on cloud nine as the afternoon continues and even the more tedious aspects of production he has to sign off on can't wear him down.

He sees Che again during a meeting with writers to go over possible news developments that should be worked into the _Update_ segment, and although they don't have much time to talk between arriving and the meeting itself, when Colin catches Che's eye across the room, they both break into wide smiles that has everyone else giving them variations of the Look.

 _If only you knew_ , Colin thinks at them, smug.

 

Around seven o'clock, he's able to call it a day. With everything that can be done over for the day and the set builders busy finishing props for Friday's dress rehearsal, Colin is free from further meetings. He's on his way back to his office, an admitted spring in his step, when someone falls into step beside him.

"We've got a situation," Nick says, face forward.

"Huh?"

"Dave is running damage control on Kyle. Talking sense into him. You know." Nick glances sideways at Colin, face totally expressionless, like he's some sort of agent out of a spy movie. "Leslie spoke with Beck earlier, gave him some hope. My friends are morons, Jost. It's up to us to save them from their self-destructive tendencies. Will you help us?"

"Um... yes." Colin says.

Nick nods. "I'll text you." With that, he turns off sharply into a side hallway and disappears.

Che is sitting on Colin's sofa when he walks into his office, and he looks up from his phone when Colin walks in and there's a small, knowing sort of smirk on his lips as he waits for Colin to put on his coat –Colin's coat, that is. They head out of 30 Rockefeller together, which is not in any way unusual, and Che throws an arm over Colin's shoulders –typical, also –and by all means it's just another day off from work, except at the corner crosswalk, Che stops to smother Colin in a bear hug, cutting off Colin's commentary about tomorrow's dress.

"Re _lax_ , Jost," Che says, swaying from foot to foot. "You get so worked up about everything."

Colin lets out a helpless laugh into Che's shoulder and thinks about how, were he not a participant of this obnoxiously flamboyant PDA, he'd probably be walking by rolling his eyes to Kingdom Come. As it is, he simply responds by sliding his frigid fingers under Che's coat and sweater, eliciting an immediate yelp and a release from Che's suffocating embrace.

Che gives Colin a narrow-eyed look, but there's also a sly quirk to his mouth that Colin recognizes as the beginning of some sort of retaliation that has a fifty-percent chance of ending with snow down the back of his shirt, and _isn't that something_ , he thinks, staving off Che's retribution by distracting him in a kiss.

"Hey, asshole, move!" someone says nearby, and Colin doesn't have to look to know Che's flipping them off in response.

 

#

His phone alarm is going off, playing that weird noir ringtone that was funny when Colin chose it but is infinitely more irritating at six-thirty in the morning.

"Jesus, please kill it," comes a voice from his side.

"Can't," Colin mumbles back, eyes still closed, "Doesn't die. Izzimmortal…"

The mattress shifts as the warm body he's been tucked against rolls away. He can hear Che lumbering across the floor to find his jacket on the floor and dig out Colin's phone to turn the alarm off, but he doesn't open his eyes and sit up until a little after he hears the alarm turn off.

He props himself up on his elbows and looks around the still-dark room to see the outline of Che just before he turns on the light. They look at each other a moment before Che lets out a loud laugh.

"Christ, Colin, your hair," he says.

"S'your fault," Colin retorts, reaching up and trying to pat down what he guesses must look like a bird's nest of some sort. He stumbles out of bed as Che disappears into the hall and looks around for a moment.

There's a moment where he's still groggy enough to have to stop and think: did they-?

And the answer is no.

In what is a surprising (or not?) non-departure from the norm, Colin realizes that he's woken up in Che's apartment, having merely spent the night. This isn't even the first time he's woken up having crashed in Che's bed, if he's to be honest. It is, however, the first time he crashed on Che's bed without the two of them being stupid drunk.

Colin huffs a small sigh and makes for the door.

It's sort of funny how, when they dance around each other in the bathroom, getting ready, it's familiar. They've done this before, every other time Che's crashed at Colin's or vice versa (as is more often the case), but hindsight is 20/20 and Colin can sense now that when their gazes meet in the mirror, the warm flutter he gets in his chest lacks a nervous edge that usually accompanies it.

Colin's last relationship only lasted about a month and a half, and part of that was because it'd been way too much work for the schedule his life ran on; he simply couldn't keep up with the obligation to be attentive and romantic when he was dead on his feet and working through the night for half of every week. With Che it's different. They know each other and they know their work.

While Colin's still trying to force his hair into something presentable, Che vanishes into the kitchen and, from the sound of it, helps himself to coffee.

They end up standing around the kitchen as the normally do, checking their phones for messages over cereal and coffee.

"Nick text you?" Che pipes up.

Colin glances up. "No, what's he saying?"

"He says he –and I'm quoting here –he talked with his 'connection' and 'Operation Deus Ex Machina: Good Romance Stuff' is a go, so 'stand by for further instruction after dress today'."

They look at each other with mirrored expressions of raised eyebrows and doubt.

"One to ten," Che says, "How over the top do you think his plan is gonna be?"

 

As it turns out, the plan isn't as weird as it could be –probably, Colin suspects, because Dave seems to have had a say in it.

Dress rehearsals, with all the drama of costume change practice and tweaking and resetting scenes, end at four o'clock in the afternoon. After that, Colin and Che have to do a final review of their _Update_ material as it currently stands. When they leave the meeting, almost as if on cue, Colin's phone buzzes. He's got two messages –one missed from earlier, from Casey (' _so hows the crisis going? averted?_ ') –and one from Nick which reads: ' _We have Kyle. Locate Beck & bring to cafe in 30. ( maps?f=q&source…)'_

"Nick?" Che guesses.

"Yeah, apparently he's decided to launch Operation Deus Ex –well, et cetera." Colin frowns. He hasn't mentioned to anyone but Leslie the bet he made with Beck, and although he's confident that Leslie did indeed talk sense into Beck yesterday, the couple of times that Colin has glimpsed Beck today, he seemed a little _too_ unbothered compared to the state he'd been in when he pulled Colin into the narrow hall to talk. It doesn't slip Colin's mind that Beck has serious dramatic acting chops that, although present, are sometimes overlooked since they're not usually utilized in _SNL_ sketches.

He's tried texting Beck throughout the day, but hasn't gotten so much as a ' _read_ ' tag in response, which naturally means Beck is avoiding him for some reason. While he figures Nick's plan won't involve anything that will make things _worse_ –after all, Nick presumably has a vested interest in the emotional well-being of his two close friends –Colin does feel the pull to find Beck ahead of time and have a talk, just to check in.

"So what's the plan?" Che asks,

"Uhm…" Colin says, answering distractedly because he's still staring down at his phone, his messages open to the chat log he has with Beck even as he and Che walk down the hall.

"Hey," Che says, nudging Colin with his elbow. "What's up?"

Colin looks up, biting his lip with a growing feeling of confliction. "It's… nothing, really. I'll get Beck and you go ahead, okay?" He's pretty sure he adds on a layer of babbled nonsense about how it'll be less suspicious, and Che just stares at him with a sort of bewildered expression.

They've stopped in the hall at a corner and Che says, slow-like, " _Oh_ -kay…"

They look at each other and Colin abruptly feels a wave of what is probably guilt for not being completely transparent. Then again, he reasons, it isn't as though he's up to anything _bad_. "I'll text you the address and catch up with you in twenty or so, okay?" he says, and the weird, false cheer that he puts into his voice makes him wince a little.

Che just continues to stare at him and then he shrugs and sort of just steps back. "Okay," he says again. Then, "See you."

There's a moment before they part ways where an uncharacteristic awkwardness begins to rise between them. Colin isn't actually sure if they're being public about their –their _thing_ , and because there are still writers and staff milling about, he ends up turning away from Che rather abruptly, with a short wave and an echoed, "See you."

He feels like he should've done something else, but as Colin goes to extract Beck for Nick's plan, he decides to ponder the unexpected awkwardness with Che once he puts worries about Beck to rest. He texts Che the directions from Nick and lingers on the message log long enough to see that Che has read it, but doesn't reply.

 _It doesn't mean anything_ , he tells himself firmly, beating down a surge of unfounded worry.

He checks Beck's office first, and although he isn't in, it isn't too long after that Colin finds him, even though it is by pure luck when he's passing by the larger meeting room where table-reads usually take place. The door is ajar and as Colin walks by and he happens to glance over just in time to glimpse Beck, standing at the far side of the room by the windows and looking down at the street below.

"Hey," Colin says, slipping into the room and crossing the floor.

Beck turns, startled. "Oh," he says, sounding tired. "Hey."

"How are you?" Colin asks, and Beck seems to catch the extra meaning in the question.

He sighs. "I don't know what to do," he says. "We keep… avoiding each other. I hate it, man, but I can't _not_ avoid K-Kyle… he might want to pretend nothing happened, but I can't do that." He turns away, leaning against the windowsill to look down at the traffic below once more.

Colin frowns. "How do you know that's what he wants if you keep avoiding each other?"

Beck throws him such a dead side-eye Colin –who instinctively looks for the funny side of things –can't help but give a small laugh.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "C'mon, Beck… It's gonna be okay, right? You and Kyle have been best friends for way too long for this to not just… Look, if Kyle –for some _fucking_ reason –really doesn't feel the same way as you do about him, do you still want him in your life?"

"That's not even a question," Beck says. "And don't bother, Jost, Leslie gave me a pep talk yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure whatever she had to say was better than what I'm trying to do right now." Colin says.

Beck is quiet a moment, as if thinking about what exactly it was Leslie said. He lets out a huge sigh. "Yeah," he says, "It was." Something inside of him seems to steel itself and Beck straightens up and turns to look at Colin with a new, determined sort of expression, jaw clenched. The expression remains for another second before it melts into one of distaste. "This is _dumb_ ," Beck says, "Why am I living an actual soap opera right now?"

Colin laughs and claps Beck on the shoulder, "C'mon," he says smoothly, "I'm meeting Che in a couple of minutes. Come with me."

Beck allows Colin to usher him out of the meeting room, and heads to his office to grab his things. "How's it going with Che, anyway?" he asks as they head for the elevators.

The question throws Colin for a small loop. "What?" he blurts out before he really processes the question. "Oh. Uh…" He laughs nervously and steps into the elevator after Beck just as the doors close.

"What?" Beck says,

Colin has a sudden, flustered feeling that makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

"What?" Beck insists, "Dude, _what_?"

"We're… basically together," Colin admits just as the elevator opens on the sixth floor and he meets the gaze of Steve Higgins, who has an eyebrow raised in a way that says he definitely heard what Colin was saying.

"Good afternoon," Higgins says, stepping into the lift between Beck and Colin, who can feel his face heating up.

The doors take their sweet time closing and they all stand in dead silence, facing forward.

"So how was it?" Beck asks casually.

Colin's face burns. "What?"

"You didn't sleep together?"

"I –no." Colin says.

"Really?"

" _Beck_. Jesus. It's been –it's been a _day_."

There's a beat of silence. "Well, you'll get there, buddy," Beck says, laughter in his voice.

Colin groans a little and the elevator finally reaches ground level at that moment to let them out.

"Have a nice evening, gentlemen," Higgins says, exiting first and looking back at Colin and Beck with a highly amused gleam in his eyes. As he turns and walks away, Colin takes the opportunity to give Beck a pointed shove.

He simply laughs, the first sincere laugh Colin can remember hearing from him in the past couple days. "C'mon, I _had_ to," Beck says, trailing after Colin as he stalks across the lobby. "Are you really mad?"

"No," Colin admits, flush already gone. "But it's _always_ Higgins," he complains.

"Huh?"

Colin just shakes his head and pulls out his phone as they step outside, double-checking the directions Nick sent him and feeling a little guilty for lulling Beck into a false sense of security.

"Really, though," Beck pipes up after a moment, "Good for you, man. You and… so you really just got your shit together, huh?"

"You seem surprised,"

"I dunno. A couple weeks ago, you never even considered you might have feelings for Che. I figured he was straight, honestly."

Colin snorts. "Apparently, we figured the same about each other."

"So you win the bet, then," Beck says, which makes Colin roll his eyes.

"It wasn't a race," he says, "And forget that. It doesn't matter if you're not… good, too."

They're silent for the rest of the walk.

The cafe Nick has picked for the location of his schemes is not one that Colin has been to before, since it's in the opposite direction of his usual route home. He's pretty sure he's passed it before, nonetheless, and Beck clearly recognizes the cozy-looking corner cafe because a flurry of complex emotions pass over his face when he realizes where they're headed; there's a spark of recognition, then a soft, fond look that gives way to a sudden, pinched look before morphing into panic, doubt, and then something quizzical which is finally dismissed as Beck regains control of his emotions.

Colin makes sure Beck goes in first, anyway.

Inside, the cafe is a lot bigger than he expected, with a nice space farther in, beyond the kitchen space and counter, where several cushioned chairs are set up around low tables. Beyond those tables are two low walls blocking off what must be circular booths. Colin can make out the the top of Che's cap over one of these walls and gestures for Beck to follow him.

Nick and Dave are the first occupants of the booth to come into view and Colin, walking a step in front of Beck, has enough time to see that Kyle is slouched in between Dave and Che and that Colin is going to have to act fast to trick Beck into sliding into the booth before him.

He pulls it off, gesturing for Beck to sit while he's just noticed Nick and ensuring that he's already sitting down before he's really noticed the other occupants of the booth.

There's a moment where Colin's saying a loud hello to Dave and Nick where Beck looks around and Kyle looks up from the muffin he's picking at on the table in front of him and they both just sort of _freeze_.

"Oh, you made it," Dave says, pretending not to notice.

Che, Colin notices, doesn't make the same effort, looking back and forth between Kyle and Beck openly, fascinated and expectant.

Beck is stiff at Colin's side and fixes his eyes on Nick and Dave. "Hey," he says, barely opening his mouth.

It figures, Colin thinks, that Beck's stony reaction would keep him from being able to observe the way Kyle, meanwhile, is staring right at him, mouth still slightly agape from his surprise, but a wounded, wistful kind of look creeping into his eyes.

"So, this is nice," Che says.

A waitress approaches, having noticed the addition of Colin and Beck to the booth. "Beck," she says, seeming pleased, "I wondered when you'd show up to complete the gang! And hello there," she says to Colin. "Would you like a menu?"

"Yes please," Colin says,

"And Beck –the usual?"

He nods and the waitress departs, cheerful and blind to the tension in the booth in a way that Colin really wants to laugh at, but manages not to.

"By the way," Nick says, "This is an intervention."

"I think that's clear," Dave assures him.

"So, you all come here a lot?" Colin says.

"What the fuck, guys," says Kyle rather unexpectedly, tearing his gaze away from Beck to look at his two scheming friends. This, of course, means that he misses the way Beck's head snaps sideways to look at him for only the second time since sitting down.

"I think that's our line, actually," Nick shoots back, "What? You have to know that _everyone_ knows that you two are fighting. It's only been, like, two days, and no one likes it, especially –and this is obvious, too – _you_ guys." His dark brows furrow as he frowns and looks from Kyle to Beck. "So this is an intervention."

"Would you two just talk?" Dave says.

Kyle and Beck don't look at each other, but while Beck's expression remains stony, there's something straining in his expression, threatening to crumble. Kyle, meanwhile, looks uneasy and a little bit guilty.

"Look," Nick says, "We're sorry for locking you in a closet, but this is bullshit."

"Kyle," Dave says, "Do you have anything to say?"

Kyle throws him a sharp look and reluctantly looks Beck's way. There's a good foot and a half of space between where they're sitting. "Sorry?" he says, like it's a question.

Beck jerks, looking him dead in the eye, so that Colin can only really see Kyle's still uncertain expression. "Sorry?" Beck repeats.

The waitress takes that moment to reappear, setting down what appears to be a latte and a savory pastry in front of Beck and a menu for Colin. "Take your time," she tells him, and then looks at the others with a good-natured smile. "Can I get you all anything else right now?"

"No, thank you, Mara," Dave says.

Colin takes the moment to appreciate the situation they've got going on right now, everyone sitting sort of nervously –Beck and Kyle tense, Nick frustrated yet determined, Dave concerned and expectant, Che peering over at Beck and Kyle with obvious anticipation, and –oh right, Mara the waitress apparently oblivious to it all as she saunters away.

"If we leave," Dave says, "Will you talk?"

Colin nudges Beck in the side a little, like _take a fucking chance_ and Beck gives a short nod.

Kyle looks down, where his hands are now twisting in his lap instead. "What's there to talk about?" he mumbles. "I said sorry."

"What are you? Children?" Nick bursts out. " _That's_ what you need to talk about!" He jumps up, or the best he can, since he's still trapped between Dave and Kyle at the booth. "I can't believe how stupid you're being. I mean, _Je_ sus, what's the fucking deal, anyway? One plus one equals two, goddammit! What's so complicated about that?"

"Ohh-kay," Dave says, cutting in and grabbing Nick's arm to pull him back down, "Guys, I think you can see what Nick is getting at."

There's an uncomfortable silence.

Colin can see that Kyle is scowling downwards.

Dave stands. "Will you just talk?" he asks again.

"Sure." Beck says after a moment, before Colin can nudge him again.

"I don't have anything I want to say," Kyle says abruptly, standing like he's about to leave. He's blocked by Dave, who stands as well and pushes him back into his seat by the shoulders.

Colin chews at his bottom lip, observing the scene, and glances over to meet Che's eye.

Che says, ever the blunt guy: "Uh, we all heard that example of blatant bullshit, right?"

"Oh, fuck you," Kyle says, dismissive. To Dave, he says, "Fuck this, too," and pushes him down into the seat, before very nimbly managing to climb out of the booth. He straightens up and glances back at everyone with a look that's half angry, half burning frustration and something else, more troubled. His eyes fall past Colin to Beck and he opens his mouth, closes it, and stalks off without another word.

He leaves the table in a tense silence.

"Fuck!" Nick bursts out, at right about the time Dave grits out a low, " _fuck."_

"Did you have a contingency plan for this?" Che wonders aloud.

"Who knew this was going to be so hard?" Nick snaps, "If I knew this whole thing was going to get dragged out with some _dumb_ ass rom-dram stubborn logic, then"

"Rom-dram?" Che and Colin echo, at the same time Beck gets to his feet –all the way, that is. Much like Kyle, he climbs up onto the booth and steps over Colin, who's in his way.

And then he sort of just urgently drifts off; urgent because he half jogs out, but there's a sort of vacant, entranced look on his face the whole time.

Again, those left behind watch, bemused.

Nick bites his lip. "Think he's going after Kyle?" he wonders.

Dave looks grim. "Maybe we've done enough meddling here," he says. He looks across the table to Colin. "Honestly," he says, "I think we all thought this would be a lot more… straight-forward."

"See?" Nick cuts in. He's still frustrated, dark eyebrows pulled tight together. "They're totally rom-dram-ing it. Who the _fuck_ knows why." He crosses his arms and glares at the tabletop.

"Well," Che says, shifting over in the booth to sit nearer Colin. "I think we're all in agreement; that coulda gone better."

Dave drums his fingers on the tabletop, pensive. "I mean, if Beck doesn't… there's always…"

"You're right," Nick declares suddenly, snapping out of his sulk and looking inspired once more.

"Although we shouldn't," Dave warns,

"It's the best next course of action," Nick says, "And we've got to. This isn't a fucking romantic-drama! It's real life." He makes a shooing motion to get Dave out of the booth and they both get to their feet.

It's at that time that Mara the Waitress reappears. "I just saw Kyle and then Beck storming out of here," she says, "Is everything alright?"

"It will be," Nick says determinedly. "Sorry, Mara, but we're gonna have to duck out early, too. Dave? Pay." He marches off.

Dave makes something of a chagrined expression, but drops some bills on the table. "Later, guys –Mara," he says, and heads after Nick.

 

#

Later, when they're at Colin's apartment and it's late, nothing going on, the television tuned to a late night show, Colin feels… tense.

He's unbelievably conscious of Che's body next to him, in a way that is almost beyond what he can comprehend, what with how this situation is nearly identical with many other evenings –rather, late night –that he's spent with Che.

Sitting in the dark with the TV on, that is.

Colin wonders if he should invest more time in find parties to go to to pass the time, but no, it's Friday night. Dress and the show itself are taking place tomorrow.

Besides, he reasons, it's not as though he's a homebody; he's usually holed up at work into the early mornings. On days where he has more free time in the evening, he balances catching up on necessary errands, going to the gym, and meeting up with co-workers for various, non-work related outings.

Still, when he reflects on it, Colin thinks it's pretty remarkable how numerous nights like this are.

"... _that's our show for today, folks,_ " comes the host from the TV. " _Thank you and goodnight!"_

The audience cheers and Colin turns to make some remark to Che about the show –and what it was he meant to say, Che apparently would have it he doesn't remember. He looks over, words at the tip of his tongue, and Che cover his mouth with his own.

Colin hears himself make some kind of aborted noise, taken by surprise. His mouth opens automatically; his lips move against Che's without a second thought, and he shifts onto his side.

"I feel like you've been doing that thing where you think too much," Che says, quiet, light from the flatscreen before them casting a bright glint in his eyes.

Colin props his elbow up on the sofa, resting his head against his hand. "Oh yeah? Thinking about what?" he says,

"Tomorrow night's show?" Che guesses. "Nah...too easy,"

"Probably," Colin agrees,

"Beck?"

"I _am_ worried about him, but no. I can't control that."

"So you're just, what, occupied? By a buncha little things, adding up?"

"Guess so," Colin says. "Boring, huh?"

Che makes a face and tutting sound. "It'd be worse if you never thought about anything," he pointed out. "Then you'd just be pretty." He grins.

Colin snorts. "I thought I was 'sort of funny looking'," he says, and where he expects a witty reply, he gets none.

Che abruptly pulls him in for a kiss, and this time he kisses hard, hungrily.

There have been three types of kisses between them, as far as Colin has counted.

There's that sort of casual making-out; from pecks in between laughter and teasing, to the kind of fun, _we shouldn't be doing this at work_ kisses, spurred on by excited enthusiasm and exploring hands.

There's the sort of languid kiss, drawn out, and sweet, the type that makes Colin want to memorize the way Che's face looks with his eyes closed. It's the type of kiss that that makes him feel like he's going to fall through the earth or float into the clouds, and all that romantic cosmic shit.

Then there's this, a kiss that makes Colin feel like he's swallowed fire –in a good way – _somehow_.

He moves to straddle Che, liking the way they fit together like that, his hands cupping Che's jaw, Che's gripping his hips, still trying to pull him closer when they're already so close, so—

His hips twitch, the slightest of movements and in the small break Colin takes to draw breath, his inhale is unmistakably sharp.

The sounds gives them both pause.

Che peers up at him with a sort of hooded gaze and smiles, sudden and wolffish.

Colin feels something deep within him, that fiery feeling again –and he has the split second to grin before he and Che move at once, surging forward with renewed vigor.

This time Che's hands find Colin's shirt and push up the hem, fingertips brushing against his abdomen.

And for his part, Colin tugs at Che's hoodie for a few pointless seconds before Che pulls away with a breathless laugh, yanking his hoodie off over over his head.

Colin pulls Che in again by the front of his t-shirt and kisses him fiercely, parting only while he's still got the forethought to climb off of Che's lap and pull him from the couch, toward the hall.

"Come on," he pants, and it takes a bit –especially when he gets impatient a moment later, pins Che against the hallway wall, and ends up shirtless himself, feeling warm, dry palms sliding down his sides, and Che's mouth pressing a trail of burning kisses down his chest and abdomen –but eventually he tugs Che back up and they stagger into Colin's room.

This, Colin finds himself thinking abruptly as Che pushes him back into the mattress, is foreign territory. Several weeks ago, this was not something he would ever have conceived of happening, and now the anticipation makes him feel sort of pleasantly jittery all over.

He shudders slightly and feels a gentle tug against his belt line. It's Che, half looming above him, hesitating, a question forming on his lips.

Colin, whose jeans are starting to feel smug enough, _thanks_ , says, "You can touch me." It comes out hoarse.

And Che's eyes darken at the sound.

He pulls Colin's belt out of the loop in one fluid motion and all musings on expectation or anticipation or –who even fucking remembers –rapidly flee Colin's thoughts, chased off by a blissful now.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo....?? I'm afraid this fic is a little long-winded, but hopefully you guys out there like it. Second chapter will be up within a week, hopefully!
> 
> I'd love to write more fics, but I'm a little bit low on concepts, so if you've got any prompts for Colin/Michael, Kyle/Beck, or any of the girls even (kinda feeling Cecily/Kate?? idk???), feel free to share 'em!


End file.
